A Tapestry of Love & Sorrow
by Elvenqueen Sarah
Summary: "There is an ill sorcery at work in this place and it grows ever stronger the deeper we go." After the battle against Sauron the Elvenking of Greenwood the Great must face the darkening shadows that threaten the lives of his people, his family – and himself. (Canon Thranduil) Dedicated to Ella728
1. A Joyful Event

**AUTHOR NOTE:** This fanfic came about after fellow member _**Ella728**_ requested a story involving Thranduil and Legolas in her review of my other story _The Providence of Mercy._ It has taken a while for it to be finished due to other commitments I've had, including two overseas trips – one to the UK and the other to Japan (I highly recommend both places!). Also, after I was nearly done with the original storyline I had planned these wonderful characters insisted on me telling what happened to them leading up to the moments before the battle in _The Hobbit,_ which is actually the start of my very first Tolkien fanfic _The Revelation of Truth_. As the first chapter of this story is set a few years after the start of the Third Age there was A LOT of time to cover! The original storyline I had planned in response to Ella728's request falls into the timeframe of the following quotes: "When maybe a thousand years had passed, and the first shadow had fallen on Greenwood the Great, the _Istari_ or Wizards appeared in Middle-earth." And, "1050 – About this time a shadow falls on Greenwood, and men begin to call it Mirkwood…. 1100 – The Wise (the Istari and the chief Eldar) discover than an evil power has made a stronghold at Dol Guldur. It is thought to be one of the Nazgûl." _LOTR – Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age._

I read, reread, cross-referenced and researched every source material of Tolkien's I could find to try and get the characters as true as possible to Tolkien's canon, and have the situations that occur (or get mentioned) fall properly into his timeline of events. I will own there were a few inspirations taken from PJ movies (you'll know what they are when certain events occur) but I've reworked his ideas to fit in with Tolkien's timeline and my story. At the end of each chapter I've included references and a bit of background information if you're interested in reading them. :)

For anyone who has never read any of my stories before and may just be checking this one out (for which I thank you!) I must tell you that Thranduil is my favourite character in all of Tolkien's writings (he has been since I first read the books before any of the movies came out), therefore his personality is certainly portrayed in a more positive and more canonical manner than PJ's movie. His appearance, while following with Tolkien's own descriptions, is also heavily influenced by the beautiful and very magnetic version given to us by Lee Pace. The following quote also plays a large part in how I write his character: "They are called the Sindar, the Grey-elves of starlit Beleriand; and although they were Moriquendi, under the lordship of Thingol and the teaching of Melian they became the fairest and the most wise and skilful of all the Elves of Middle-earth." _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 10 – Of the Sindar_

 **Acknowledgement:** I would like to acknowledge the website www . arwen-undomiel for any elven names that are not recognised as being original Tolkien creations, with the exception of Elwen.

 **Dedication:** I dedicate this fanfic to fellow member **Ella728** – without your original request this story would not have been written! Also, to "the greatest king" of the woodland realm, Thranduil, and finally to the wonderful Professor Tolkien without whom this beautiful character and the rest of Middle Earth would not exist.

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the recognised characters mentioned in this story. They by right belong to **Professor JRR Tolkien** , creator of the Middle Earth world and all associated novels and books, including The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The History of Middle-earth and Unfinished Tales. Any recognised dialogue/events pertaining to the aforementioned books are the property of **Professor JRR Tolkien** and his estate. The unrecognised dialogue/events of the story are from my own imagination and represent my impression on the actions, thoughts and feelings of the characters surrounding the aforementioned recognised events. I am not making any profit from this story.

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 **A Tapestry of Love & Sorrow**

" **It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply." – David Jones**

 _ **Part 1 – A Joyful Event**_

Within the vast and beautiful forest of Greenwood the Great as the spring flowers began to bloom, and a bright dawn spread its radiant light across the clear blue sky, a tremendous sense of delighted anticipation greeted the golden-haired Elvenking of the Woodland Realm as he returned from his brief journey to Lórien and approached the entrance to the great cave in the north. From their homes in the beech trees and their houses scattered across the ground, the greetings of his people rang out gaily as Thranduil urged his mount past them and across the stone bridge to where several guards stood waiting outside the great doors of his palace.

'Hail, O King!' the guards called, 'you are arrived in time for a merry breakfast!'

Dismounting his horse with easy grace, Thranduil smiled. 'And a happy one it will be among such congenial company,' he replied, 'but first I would greet my Lady. How fares she this early morn?'

'The word from Eraisuithan is that the Queen lies abed,' one of the elf-guards revealed.

'She is unharmed?'

The guards, evidencing no surprise at their king's worried question, nodded. 'We were told to inform you that all is well, but the Queen is most desirous to have you attend upon her.'

'Then I had best present myself forthwith,' Thranduil stated, adding with a slight smile, 'it is always best to ne'er keep your lady waiting too long, my young friends, especially when she is with child! Inform Eraisuithan I shall meet with him at table presently.'

'It shall be done without delay, O King,' the guards promised.

Upon entering through the great stone doors the Elvenking abandoned all the precepts of royal decorum and ran swiftly through the brightly lit passageways towards the chamber he shared with his Lady, his dark green cloak flying out behind his tall lithe form like a banner caught in a strong wind. Despite his light-hearted reply to the guards, inside Thranduil's mind a heavy dread had started to take root and was whispering to his heart that some misfortune must have befallen his wife and child, for Queen Elwen was famed throughout the forest for her indefatigable energy and spirit. That thought sparked anew within the Elvenking the now familiar recurrent fear of losing another who was dear to him; a fear that had been wrought by the still fresh images that lingered like a poisonous cloud of the grievous losses suffered by himself and his people upon the dusty battlefield of Dagorlad; the memories of the bloodshed and screams of that war haunting him worse than the horrors he experienced in the attack on Doriath by the Naugrim of Nogrod, and the repeated slaughter of his kin in the lands of Beleriand by the Noldor.

Anxiety having lent wings to his speed, the Elvenking soon reached his destination and hastily entered through the doorway – only to halt abruptly at the sight before him. With her long hair shimmering like a river of pure silver light as it flowed over her shoulders and across the pillows gathered behind her, and her warm grey eyes sparkling up at him from a smiling face, his Queen was radiant with life as she lay on the wide bed beneath a rich blue coverlet. But what captured his attention the most was the small bundle of twitching blankets that she held cradled in her arms.

His fear rapidly diminishing, Thranduil started towards the serene scene in front of him as his wife's soft lilting voice said gently, 'dearest, pray pardon my not permitting Eraisuithan to reveal the reason for my seclusion to the guards, but I did so long to be the one to inform you of the birth of our son.'

'Our son?' His blue eyes suddenly shining with the radiance of a thousand stars, Thranduil moved so swiftly he was kneeling beside the bed before his whispered words had fully left his lips. 'O Elbereth be praised! My beloved, to learn no hurt has come to either of you is the greatest relief! But, is he not early? I had thought to return in time for his arrival.'

Her loving glance lowering towards the babe in her arms where he lay with his fair head snuggled contentedly against her breast, Elwen declared fondly, 'like his father I believe our little one enjoys the stimulating company of others. He was quite determined to come and refused to wait any longer.'

Roused by the sound of his parents' quiet voices, the little elven-princeling slowly opened his eyes. Upon seeing the clear blue hue of his first born child's eyes peering up at him, Thranduil's voice momentarily deserted him and he could do nothing but gaze down at the small form of his son. Then reaching out towards the babe's hand that lay closest to him, the Elvenking gently placed the tip of a long finger against one tiny palm; his tender look of awed joy transforming into a delighted smile as his son's delicate fingers latched onto his own single one and refused to release him.

'He is perfect.'

Slowly rising to seat himself on the edge of the bed, Thranduil leaned forward slightly; the radiant length of his golden hair instantly captivating his son's gaze as it hung beside the young Elf's face like a shining veil. Watching as the child attempted to try and grasp the bright strands that dangled so enticingly near his head with his free hand, the Elvenking murmured, 'the first new life born to our people in Eryn Galen since the battle on the foul plains of Mordor. Like the green leaves of spring that the trees of the forest bring forth to proclaim a change in the seasons, so shall our son herald a change for our people. Legolas I name him, and ever may he bring fresh hope to all those he meets.'

His newborn mind completely oblivious to the fact that his father had just honoured him with a name, the young elf-prince's bright blue eyes crinkled up as his tiny pink mouth widened in a little yawn.

'I had not thought a being so small could ensnare my heart so quickly.' Tracing the delicate features of his son with a gentle finger, Thranduil observed quietly, 'he possesses a likeness to myself, but I sense he has your innate serenity and kindness, my dear Elwen.'

'He will undoubtedly have your stubbornness,' his Queen teased him fondly, 'for he assuredly did not inherit that strong chin from myself. Although, I have seen your warm smile in his eyes so I am sure your thoughtful compassion shall also be found in him. We have truly been blessed to receive so beautiful a child.'

'Then am I doubly blessed,' Thranduil said, his loving glance returning to his wife, 'for I also have the loveliest of all the daughters of Ilúvatar's children as my Lady.'

A merry laugh passing her lips, Elwen said lightly, 'you have become quite forgetful in your advanced years, my dear lord! The fair Lúthien shall ever hold that fame.'

'Never in my heart,' Thranduil declared. 'Her evening beauty will be eternally dimmed in my eyes by the silver radiance of yours, which puts even the very stars to shame.'

A tender look then replaced the mirth in Elwen's grey eyes, for the Elvenking's words were spoken clearly and with the sincerity of truth. 'Ever shall I be grateful to the Lady Melian for arranging our meeting that morn in Doriath,' she said, 'else I may never have gained the most perfect of husbands. Our son also could not ask for a better father.' Then, as a great weariness seemed to suddenly descend upon her, she smiled tiredly before confessing on a sigh, 'my spirit still is yet to recover fully from his birth. Indeed, even after a lengthy rest my strength is swift to fade. Dear Thranduil, pray forgive me but a need for sleep is, I fear, the price we mothers must pay after bearing a child.'

His brow furrowing in concern the Elvenking gazed down at his wife. 'Should I summon one of your ladies to sit with you? Have you need of a healer?'

'Nay, my love, for there is naught that they may do save watch in idle patience until I awaken.' Glancing down at the babe in her arms, Elwen added, 'and Legolas too so it would seem!'

Following the direction of her eyes, a quiet chuckle escaped Thranduil's lips upon seeing his son sleepily watching him whilst happily suckling on the fistful of golden hair he had succeeded in capturing with his tiny hand.

'Is my hair to your liking, Legolas?'

The new prince of Eryn Galen gave a muffled gurgle in reply.

'Yes, I am sure you would much prefer to be partaking of the feast out in the forest, but I believe you shall have to wait until you are grown slightly older, my little one,' the Elvenking decreed, his solemn tone quite betrayed by the smile on his face and the dancing light in his eyes. Lowering his head, Thranduil bestowed a light kiss on his son's forehead before gently freeing his now drool-covered hair from Legolas' mouth – a move that instantly elicited a small wail of protest.

'Hush, my darling, mother shall feed you before we sleep.'

Observing his wife as she shifted the now fussing infant in her arms, Thranduil found himself charmed by the unfeigned look of adoration that momentarily vanquished the exhaustion on Elwen's face as she gazed down at Legolas.

'You truly are the most beautiful of all women,' he said softly, his strong hands tenderly aiding hers in readjusting the blankets covering their son. Then those same hands rose to rest warmly on Elwen's shoulders as he leaned over and placed a loving kiss upon her lips. 'I had thought it impossible to ever feel a joy equal to that which I felt on the day we were wed, but seeing you holding our son has proved that belief to be untrue. You have gifted me with memories that shall never fade, nor dim with the passing of time, and their warmth shall forever dwell within my heart. Now take what rest you need, my dearest love, and give no thought to any save yourself and Legolas. I shall have an aide placed outside the door should you need to summon me or one of your ladies. So be at peace, Elwen, and may the grace of Elbereth grant you both fair and untroubled sleep.'

O * O

Upon having appointed one of his youngest aides to keep vigilant watch over his wife and son, the Elvenking made his way along the passageway towards the dining hall where a marvellous feast was clearly being enjoyed by many of his people.

'Thranduil, my dear friend! You have returned.'

Turning to greet the owner of the voice, the Elvenking smiled as he watched the tall fair-haired Elf hastily approach him.

'Eglerion, I had not thought to find you away from the feast so soon! Have you consumed all the best dishes already?'

Thranduil's light teasing query drew a merry laugh from the other Elf. 'Nay, although had I not heard the commotion heralding your arrival there would soon not have been any remaining,' Eglerion retorted with an informal levity that bespoke a long friendship between the two. 'I will own my curiosity could wait no longer and sought you out to discover if your queen had presented to you a son or daughter; for her ladies and the healers present at the birth said they would not divulge the information to any until you had first seen the child.'

'For which discretion I am most grateful,' Thranduil replied, then with a proud smile gracing his lips he announced, 'Elwen and I have been blessed with a son. He bears a likeness to myself, but his mother has bequeathed to him her temperament.'

'All who dwell within Eryn Galen shall rejoice at his birth,' Eglerion declared, 'and none shall grow weary of the celebrations for a great number of days. It is fortunate that a new delivery of Dorwinion wine was received two days ago for the number of barrels had grown few!'

His blue eyes wide in disbelief, Thranduil gazed at his friend in shock. 'Did you do naught but consume it in my absence?' he asked. 'There were sufficient barrels to last till winter ere I departed for Lórien!'

'My friend, cast not so heavy a frown in my direction,' Eglerion protested lightly, 'your Lady succumbed to some strange joyous mood and did order it to be served at every meal – to everyone.'

The Elvenking's stern expression softened at these words and with an indulgent smile he said, 'then 'twould be churlish indeed to be aggrieved over something that gave my wife happiness. And let us allow her generosity to continue a while longer and permit all to partake in the wine for a se'nnight of feasting.'

'The forest shall ne'er sleep for the sound of our mirth,' Eglerion observed, his cheerfulness restored. 'And long and merry shall be the songs that will be sung. I, myself, have one that should set the trees to dancing.'

'If it be one of your own creations it is more like to send them hastening south to Fangorn,' Thranduil laughed. 'I have not forgot the verses you recited at the wedding feast held for Elwen and I in Doriath!'

His words drew a sound of rueful humour from Eglerion. 'A piece of youthful folly that shall forever haunt me,' the Elf admitted, 'and your father did never let me forget it.'

The mention of his father dimmed the shining light in Thranduil's eyes; but turning away he said in a voice that betrayed no sign of his inner pain, 'despite his stern words to you my father once told me he oft found your slightly impudent lyrics amusing. "Frivolous nonsense" I believe he called it. Now my friend, pray return to the feast and bid Eraisuithan to attend to his other duties once the morning repast is finished. Assure him our discussion is merely postponed and I shall summon him ere the day is ended.'

'You shall not join us, Thranduil?'

His face remaining carefully averted, the Elvenking replied, 'there is a small matter that requires my attention outside the palace walls. You may inform the guards and those at table that I require no escort.'

His keen eyes following his king's departing form, Eglerion's brow furrowed in a slight frown and with a last concerned glance at the tall golden-haired Elf, he turned away and hastened to find Eraisuithan.

O * O

Having ordered the sentries at the gate to remain at their post Thranduil crossed over the stone bridge and then made his way down a hidden forest path towards the river, the loud flow of the water growing stronger as he approached it on lightly-shod feet that made not a single whisper of sound as he descended the increasingly rocky terrain. From high above on the opposite side of the steep slope the Elf-guards were joined by Eraisuithan, and together they kept a vigilant watch over their king as he slowly walked along the riverbank until he reached a secluded grove that hid him far from their sight.

Lowering himself onto the fallen moss-covered log where he oft sat with his wife on starlit evenings, Thranduil stared with unseeing eyes at the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the river as the grief his friend had unintentionally awakened with the mention of his father turned his joy bittersweet. As the sun continued in her travels across the sky and the shadows in the grove lengthened, the Elvenking remained a silent figure enclosed in a mantle of restrained sorrow. Drawn to his presence some of the woodland beasts gathered close to his side, driven by the instinct to offer comfort to the guardian who healed and protected them and defended their homes.

To Thranduil the passing of time went by unnoticed as his mind recalled the last memories of his father: the image of the silver-haired Elvenking Oropher standing tall and proud as he looked up to bestow a fond smile at his only son as they stood at the head of their army; the clash of steel and piercing screams of death as battle burst into violent life around them after his father gave the order to advance before the signal from Gilgalad was given; the choked gasp as a foul scimitar wielded by a great orc pierced through his father's flesh; the weight of his dying father in his arms as he dragged him back behind the Royal Guard who closed ranks after their king and then fought zealously until death claimed them; then finally, his father's whispered apology as the last breath of air escaped his mouth and his long fingers released their desperate grip on Thranduil's bloodied tunic.

A great sense of loss suddenly overwhelming him, the Elvenking gazed up at the darkening indigo sky through eyes turned misty with pain as the barriers protecting his heart began to crumble into dust.

'Thranduil?'

The soft call from behind him seemed to come from a great distance, though the true distance of the caller was proved when a gentle feminine hand was shortly placed upon his shoulder.

'I know you will not approve of my venturing this far from the palace so soon after delivering our son, but our people grew anxious over your absence and could not hide their concern from me.'

Upon the Elvenking remaining frozen in a strange stillness, a shadow passed over Elwen's fair countenance. Gracefully circling around her husband's side she gazed down – only to exclaim in dismay at the sight of the silent tears that ran down Thranduil's pale cheeks like shimmering trickles of starlight.

'O my love! What has distressed you?'

Sorrow holding his voice captive, Thranduil could give no answer before he slowly leaned forward to rest his head against the softness of Elwen's breast as her arms closed about him in a tender embrace. His cheek pressed against her, Thranduil's tears became gasping sobs as the grief over the loss of his father was finally beyond his ability to control. That his father was not there to join the celebration over the birth of his first grandchild only increased his anguish.

Elwen, her heart rent by Thranduil's agonised spirit and weeping, closed her eyes and tightened her hold about his distraught form. Strangely, a feeling akin to relief was mingled with her pain upon witnessing the Elvenking's quiet lamentations – as the warm tears showed that the shackle that had long imprisoned her husband's emotions was finally shattered. And many hours later when she beheld her proud husband tenderly holding his small son in his arms and heard his clear beautiful voice sound out once again in song, Elwen smiled – for Thranduil's entire being now exuded a radiant happiness; the lingering traces of sorrow that had constantly shadowed him since the battle at Dagorlad now almost vanquished completely.

As the delighted gurgling of their child blended with the Elvenking's joyous singing Elwen sent a swift plea to Elbereth that her husband's spirit would never again be tainted with heavy grief.

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 _ **Note:**_ I hope you liked the first chapter. If you'd like to leave a review I'd love to hear from you - it's the only reward I'll receive for my labours! :) Also, here are the references for this chapter if you're interested.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Thranduil being one of the Eldar & his eye colour**_

In _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 3 – Of The Coming of the Elves_ it explains: "Oromë loved the Quendi, and named them in their own tongue Eldar, the people of the stars; but that name was after borne only by those who followed him upon the westward road…the kindred of Ingwë, and the most part of the kindreds of Finwë and Elwë, were swayed by the words of their lords, and were willing to depart and follow Oromë: and these were known ever after as the Eldar."

In _The History of Middle-Earth, Morgoth's Ring, Part 3 The Later Quenta Silmarillion, (I) The First Phase, Chapter 3 – Of the Coming of the Elves_ it specifically says that Olwé, brother to Elu Thingol and therefore one of the Sindar, had blue eyes. Therefore there is a canon basis for giving Thranduil blue eyes. :)

 _ **Dwarves of Erebor & The Realm of Thranduil**_

At the time of the main plot of this story (sometime around TA 1050) there are no dwarves at Erebor. In _LOTR – Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age_ , it states: "1981 – Náin I slain. The Dwarves flee from Moria…. 1999 – Thráin I comes to Erebor and founds a dwarf-kingdom 'under the Mountain'." Although I think I can get away with thinking there may at one time have been a small colony of dwarves in the area as Tolkien seemed to be of two minds as to whether the dwarves helped with the making of the Elvenking's halls in Greenwood the Great.

In _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 8 – The Road to Isengard_ , Gimli says to Legolas: "Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago?"

But in _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Appendix B – The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves_, it says: "…when a thousand years of the Third Age had passed and the Shadow fell upon Greenwood the Great, the Silvan Elves ruled by Thranduil 'retreated before it as it spread ever northward, until at last Thranduil established his realm in the north-east of the forest and delved there a fortress and great halls underground. Oropher was of Sindarin origin, and no doubt Thranduil his son was following the example of King Thingol long before in Doriath; though his halls were not to be compared with Menegroth. He had not the arts nor the wealth nor the aid of the Dwarves; and compared with the Elves of Doriath his Silvan folk were rude and rustic.'"

Perhaps the Dwarves started making the halls in Greenwood and then decided to migrate to another location so the Elves just did extension work! :) Anyway, for the purpose of this story I'll go with the idea that the halls of the Elvenking in the north were already in existence before the shadow came to the Greenwood.

 _The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power & the Third Age_: "But the Dominion of Men was preparing and all things were changing, until at last the Dark Lord arose in Mirkwood again. Now of old the name of that forest was Greenwood the Great, and its wide halls and aisles were the haunt of many beasts and of birds of bright song; and there was the realm of King Thranduil under the oak and the beech. But after many years, when well nigh a third of that age of the world had passed, a darkness crept slowly through the wood from the southward, and fear walked there in shadowy glades; fell beasts came hunting, and cruel and evil creatures laid there their snares. And the name of the forest was changed and Mirkwood it was called…and few dared to pass through, save only in the north where Thranduil's people still held the evil at bay. Whence it came few could tell, and it was long ere even the Wise could discover it."

"…the subjects of the king mostly lived and hunted in the open woods, and had houses or huts on the ground and in the branches. The beeches were their favourite trees. The king's cave was his palace…." Narrative in _The Hobbit, 8 – Flies & Spiders_

 _ **Conceiving and Naming of Elf Children**_

In _Morgoth's Ring, Laws & Customs of the Eldar_ it says: "Yet it would seem to any of the Eldar a grievous thing if a wedded pair were sundered during the bearing of a child, or while the first years of its childhood lasted. For which reason the Eldar would beget children only in days of happiness and peace if they could….Soon after birth the child was named. It was the right of the father to devise this first name, and he it was that announced it…it was called, therefore, the father-name, and it stood first, if other names were afterwards added."

 _ **Elvenqueen is Sindarin**_

As Tolkien never gave us any information on her, his fans are welcome to assume what they like about her. I belong in the camp that believe she was of Sindarin origin, not Silvan. _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Appendix B – The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves_ tells us that: "Oropher [and therefore his son Thranduil] had come among them [the Silvan folk] with only a handful of Sindar, and they soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their language and taking names of Silvan form and style." In fact, there's no specific mention of any of that small group of Sindar marrying a Silvan elf, so in my story, Thranduil's wife Elwen was one of that handful of Sindar. Incidentally, before I even found out about a character named Elwen in the LOTR video game I thought I would be clever and make up Thranduil's wife's name by myself. I came up with the name Elwen from going through the list of Compound Sindarin Names on the website www. tolkiendil . com, where it was listed that "El" from Elrond, Elros, etc = star, and "gwen" as used to make the name Arwen = maiden.

 _ **The Sun**_

In case you wondered why I gave the sun a feminine pronoun, in _LOTR, Book 1, Chapter 9 – At the Sign of the Prancing Pony_ Tolkien added a footnote to a poem where he referred to the sun as "She". He said that "Elves (and Hobbits) always refer to the Sun as She."


	2. A Sorrowful Parting

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Thanks to all of you who read the first chapter and are continuing to show an interest in this story, especially to those who have added it or myself to your favourite/follow list – I truly appreciate your support. I must also extend a special thank you to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** , **PegasusWingsVW** and **AndurilofTolkien** for your wonderful reviews – they certainly made me smile, and I dedicate this chapter to you. :)

It is also appropriate that I'm posting the second chapter today as my choice for book club was LOTR and we had the meeting this evening (Wed 8 Nov 2017). The majority of the members liked it – those who didn't I fed to Smaug! :D

* * *

 _ **Part 2 – A Sorrowful Parting**_

Many years after the Elves of the Woodland Realm had rejoiced at the birth of their king's first child, Thranduil stood motionless atop the highest hill of Emyn Duir in the early hours of the morning with a soft summer rain descending in a gentle mist around him. As the happy memory of his son's earliest days came to their all too familiar swift conclusion, and paying no heed to the increasing dampness of his raiment, the Elvenking's gaze turned solemn as darker memories arose in his mind. Looking towards the East his vision became obscured by images of that day when tragedy had struck his House once more.

O * O

The last frosty echoes of winter had disappeared from the forest, and the first green buds of spring burst into a myriad of colours, when a party set out from the Greenwood towards Erebor in the East; for Legolas, at the tender age of three in the years of men, had been promised a journey to see the source of Celduin, having heard the stories of the majestic river that flowed down to the Sea of Rhûn. Thranduil, hastening to rejoin the party after being called back to the great cave to address a rather delicate issue involving a group of mischievous Silvan Elves, four indignant members of the small river folk and a broken boat, felt his heart lift in anticipation of seeing his son's blue eyes widen in awe at the wondrous sight.

Suddenly, as he approached the edge of the forest, the Elvenking fell still. Behind him, his escort halted and in similar silent fashion listened as their sharp hearing now caught the sound of a violent skirmish.

Alarm now coursing through their minds, the Elves led by their king sped forward and burst through the dense foliage that concealed the entrance to the elf-path. Their sight now unhindered by the trees, Thranduil and his Elves could clearly see in the far distance the silver flash of elven blades and the flicker of each arrow as they left the skilled hands of their elf-masters. But of most dire concern was the sight of Amaniel, the young elf-maid orphaned during the war against Sauron and one of the Queen's favourites, racing towards them with Legolas' small form clasped in her arms.

Hastening forward, Thranduil felt a band of cold ice tighten around his heart as he beheld his son's frightened expression.

'O King, a large band of orcs attacked our party as we entered the Great Vale.' Amaniel's voice rang out clearly – and her words instantly ignited a storm of fury within Thranduil and his Elves.

'Gildoron, lead the main escort and go lend assistance!'

Their faces grim, the Elves obeyed their king's command without question.

His blue eyes turned glacial in his anger the Elvenking firmly grasped the oaken staff in his hand and demanded, 'where is My Lady?'

'The Queen did order me to take the prince and run,' Amaniel replied, her youthful voice marred by a slight tremor. 'She remained to help defend our escape.'

Reaching out his free hand, Thranduil placed it briefly on Amaniel's dark hair. 'You did well to bring my son here safely,' he soothed her, 'now I entrust you to ensure he is taken home. Calanon will go with you.'

The son of Eraisuithan stepped forward and swiftly approached. 'No harm shall come to them under my watch, O King,' he declared solemnly.

'Once you reach the cave, inform your father that all posts are to be fully guarded and our defences mobilised,' Thranduil ordered. 'And have him send a group of our best warriors to join us at the Great Vale, for this may yet be the first assault of a greater force.'

'Yes, O King.'

As Calanon moved to lead his charges away Legolas turned panicked eyes towards his parent.

' _Ada!_ '

The elf-prince's terrified cry for his father promptly brought Thranduil's hand to his cheek.

'Dear one,' the Elvenking said gently, 'I know you are frightened but you must be strong whilst I go to help Mother. Can you be brave for me, my little Greenleaf, until we return?'

His wide blue eyes swimming in tears Legolas looked mutely up into his father's concerned gaze. Then, albeit with a trembling bottom lip, he raised his chin and whispered, 'yes, Father.'

Bending down, Thranduil pressed his lips warmly against Legolas' forehead. 'We shall be together again soon, my son,' he promised softly, and then he was hastening away towards the battle with the remainder of his escort following close behind him.

Urgency lending swift wings to their speed, Thranduil and his Elves covered the distance to the battle with great fleetness; their unsheathed swords glinting in the bright sunlight as they descended upon the bloody scene. Many orcs already lay dead upon the ground – their foul corpses pierced through with arrows or bearing the deep wounds inflicted by an elven blade. To Thranduil's dismay a small number of his people also lay among them, their fair bodies now motionless in death. And there, on the far side of the battle, her lithe form fighting desperately against a large horde with only a single blade in her right hand, a black arrow piercing her chest and one hand pressed against an increasingly dark red stain at her side, was Elwen.

His eyes burning with merciless fury in a face turned deathly pale, the Elvenking raised his staff and brought it down heavily against the stone ground beneath his feet – the sharp crack heralding a violent quake that shook the earth and set the land to trembling. The natural grace of their race coming to their aid, the Elves all maintained their balance; but the orcs who still fought stumbled and fell about in disarray.

Their minds now clouded with panic and the terror that the earth would open beneath their feet and devour them, the orcs scurried away from the advancing Elves, whose wrathful hands sought to deal swift retribution on behalf of their slain kin.

Observing the fleeing enemy, Thranduil ordered sharply, 'Eglerion, take a party and follow them to their lair but do not enter it, for we have no knowledge of what may lie in wait. However, should you manage to decrease their number ere they reach their destination it shall make our later task easier.'

Turning to his friend and king, Eglerion asked, 'what if some should surrender to us, Thranduil?'

His blue eyes darkened until the light in them was almost indistinguishable, the Elvenking's inner turmoil was clearly evident before he commanded harshly, 'we cannot slay those who are unarmed and who offer no resistance, even such vile creatures as those that now flee. If they surrender they are to be imprisoned.'

Then, without waiting a moment longer, Thranduil broke into a fast run and made his way quickly towards his wife who now stood listlessly amid a great pile of orcs – their dead bodies a testament to her endurance and fierce skill with a blade.

'Elwen! Elwen!'

Her grey eyes strangely dull, the Elvenqueen of Eryn Galen slowly raised her head and stared vacantly at her husband as her sword fell from her weakened grasp.

'Thranduil?'

The pained whisper barely made it past her lips before Elwen swayed forward and collapsed – straight into the Elvenking's firm embrace as his staff fell unheeded to the ground.

'Elwen, my love, I am here. I have you.'

Lowering his precious burden onto a grassy mound the Elvenking smoothed a gentle hand over his wife's brow, brushing away the stray silver strands of hair that had fallen over her face.

'Legolas, is he –?'

'He is well,' Thranduil reassured her quickly. 'Amaniel brought him safely to me. Calanon is taking them both home.'

Looking down, Thranduil's expression grew harsh as he observed the bloody claw marks at Elwen's neck that was now bare of the silver necklace that had always adorned it from the day Queen Melian had presented it to her as a bridal gift in Doriath – the gift made all the more precious for containing some of the luminous starlit pearls taken from the shallow waters about the Isle of Balar and that had been given to Elu Thingol by Círdan.

'They dared to touch you with their filthy hands.' Tracing over his wife's wounds with tender fingers, Thranduil's eyes narrowed in concentration as he moved his hand lower to examine Elwen's other injuries.

'There were so many about me. One of them tore it off.' Attempting to rise, Elwen gasped and fell backwards as she pointed tiredly in the direction of Erebor. 'He and several others abandoned the fight and ran towards the Mountain.'

'Lay still, dear one,' Thranduil murmured urgently, and shifting his position he placed his hands over the most grievous wound in Elwen's side. 'I care nothing for the necklace while you lie before me bleeding heavily.' Then closing his eyes he whispered a soft chant in his elven-tongue, the soothing notes accompanied by a warm bright light emanating from his being. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he stared at the wound in anguished dismay. _O Elbereth! The cut is deep and the blade that inflicted the injury bore the trace of a dark poison,_ he thought. _It has not the black evil of a Morgul-wound but it is strong and I do not possess Elrond's skill to heal it!_

'Thranduil.'

Feeling his wife's long fingers loosely clasp his wrist, Thranduil looked up at her face, and sternly striving to conceal his dread he said quietly, 'I must tend to your wounds, Elwen. You must not move.'

'I know the wound is poisoned,' Elwen confessed weakly, 'and my strength is almost faded. Although my spirit fights to remain I can feel it slipping away. There is naught you can do, my dearest love, to prevent our parting.'

'Nay, Elwen! I will give you my own strength until a healer with greater skill than I arrives.' Picking up her right hand, Thranduil brought it to his lips and kissed the gold ring that adorned her forefinger. 'When I placed this ring on your finger I pledged that all I have would be yours. Whatever strength and grace I possess is yours. Take it, I beseech you.'

'It is too late, my love. Soon my spirit will join those of our fallen kin in the Halls of Mandos.'

'Elwen, please.'

Feeling a wave of healing warmth flood into her from her husband, Elwen wearily shook her head. 'Thranduil, pray preserve thy own strength. Though this parting is not of our choosing its bitterness must be endured. But, dear lord, we will not be sundered forever, for I know we shall be together again. Let your memory of me be sweet until that day and I pray you keep our child safe. Now, farewell my dearest Thranduil, and know that my love for you and Legolas will never fade. Farewell.'

Then, as the Elvenking watched in helpless anguish, Elwen's spirit departed from her body and the light of the Eldar that had suffused her entire being was extinguished.

A deep grief then entered into the heart of Thranduil, the sorrow a pain that pierced with the sharpness of a sword and left his eyes bereft of tears. With infinite gentleness he reached down and gathered Elwen's still body in his arms, his head lowering until it was buried against her neck, her beloved silver hair shielding his face while his own long strands fell about them like a golden shroud.

None wishing to intrude upon their king's silent grieving, the remaining Elves under the leadership of Gildoron began to quietly gather the bodies of the dead orcs into piles, while litters crafted from spear-truncheons and cloaks were prepared to bear the slain and gravely injured Elves back to the forest. When all was prepared and the wounded had been borne away, Gildoron and the king's personal guard stood in watch as Thranduil continued to kneel upon the ground while the day's shadows lengthened across the land under the bright rays of the sun.

O * O

The dark shades of evening were creeping across the sky when Thranduil finally relinquished his hold on Elwen's body and slowly rose to his feet. Grief had etched a stern and implacable mask into his face, leaving only his haunted eyes to reveal the depth of his sorrow. His voice when he spoke was devoid of all expression and his manner bore a coldness that none had ever before witnessed.

'Gildoron, have My Lady and all others of our people who here lie slain taken from this field of death. Let their bodies be interred within the forest while their spirits rest in the Halls of Mandos till he releases them.' Accepting the return of his staff from one of his guards, the Elvenking turned and looked at the piles of orc corpses. 'As for these foul servants of Sauron,' he said, 'once all our slain are removed from their presence burn them.'

Leaving the Elves to their task Thranduil then directed his attention towards Erebor.

'Hirgon.'

One of the guards, a tall, dark-haired Elf, straightened from where he was crouched beside one of the fallen and hurried forward.

'Yes, O King?'

'A small band of orcs who assaulted the Queen and robbed her of the gift bestowed upon her by Queen Melian have made their way to the Mountain. They will most likely seek to hide themselves within the mining tunnels made by the old dwarven colony.'

Hirgon nodded. 'Gildoron did overhear the Queen's words to you, King Thranduil,' he said quietly, 'and a group has already been despatched to track them down.'

'Then let us hope retribution shall be swift in descending upon them who dared lay violent hand upon My Lady,' Thranduil declared grimly. 'Take some of the remaining guards with you and lend what assistance is in your power to give in finding the creatures. And let it be known that the treasure the orcs hold in their possession cannot be used to negotiate their freedom should they attempt any such treaty. Death or imprisonment is their only choice.'

As Hirgon moved away to make his selection for the other members of his party, Thranduil sighed heavily and closed his eyes. 'Now is the worst of times before me,' he murmured, 'when I must be the bearer of evil tidings to my son. O Elbereth, would that this grievous task had never come to pass! Aid me in this moment and through your grace let me find the words to bring comfort to Legolas, even though there are none that can ease the torment in my afflicted heart.'

Then, walking slowly to the litter that bore the body of Elwen, Thranduil took his place at the head and led the solemn procession towards the forest.

Upon entering through the concealed entrance at the forest's edge a mournful hush greeted the return of the Elves as the woodland creatures and trees felt their guardians' sadness. Not a single birdsong could be heard, nor even the gentle rustle of whispering leaves.

Throughout the night the silent march continued and the bodies of Elwen and the other fallen Elves were slowly carried through the forest, their fair and lifeless features softly lit by the pure starlight that glimmered in the hair and eyes of their bearers, and the white shimmering light that fell about the Elves' feet like incandescent moonbeams.

No songs greeted the sombre group upon their return to the great cave. The guards stood aside in grave silence and the passageways that normally rang with the sound of happy mirth and light, merry voices were now as quiet as the burial chamber in a tomb.

As they moved into the large cavernous hall where the Elvenking's magnificent throne sat empty amidst the glittering tall pillars hewn out of the living stone, a tearful wail shattered the bereaved silence and a small figure launched itself from the throne's shadow to race towards Thranduil. Crouching down, Thranduil opened his arms to accept the warm figure that rushed into his embrace with another anguished cry.

'Father has you, my little one,' he murmured huskily as Legolas pressed his face against his shoulder. And then, more quietly, as though to himself, he added, 'O, my dear child, would that I could spare you this coming grief!'

Rising up slowly, Thranduil lowered his head to hide his face against the top of Legolas' own fair hair and felt a steel vice constrict his heart as he deeply inhaled the pure fresh scent of his son – the fragrance, like that of all young elves, akin to the delicate aroma of the first blooms of spring. Wishing to delay the inevitable moment when he would need to reveal the truth of Elwen's fate to their son, Thranduil's embrace around Legolas tightened as he closed his eyes and cherished what would be the last time he held his child when Legolas' spirit was untouched by sorrow.

All was silent in the great hall for a long moment until, his soft voice quivering with fearful certainty, Legolas said, 'Father, Mother was badly hurt by those creatures wasn't she.'

And with those words the Elvenking knew the darkness of Sauron's evil had claimed another bitter victory in being the first to taint his child's innocence.

'Yes, my son,' he sighed quietly, his warm breath gently stirring Legolas' fine hair. 'Mother was badly hurt.'

* * *

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Amon Lanc, The Mountains of Mirkwood & the Growing Unease of the Elves**_

"Oropher…being disturbed by rumours of the rising power of Sauron, had left their ancient dwellings about Amon Lanc, across the river from their kin in Lórien. Three times he had moved northwards, and at the end of the Second Age he dwelt in the western glens of the Emyn Duir….The Emyn Duir were a group of high hills in the north-east of the Forest, so called because dense fir-woods grew upon their slopes; but they were not yet of evil name. In later days when the shadow of Sauron spread through Greenwood the Great…the Emyn Duir became a haunt of many of his most evil creatures, and were called…the Mountains of Mirkwood." _Unfinished Tales, Part 3: The Third Age – Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Notes 14_

 _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Appendix B – The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves_: "…in one essay Thranduil's realm is said to have 'extended into the woods surrounding the Lonely Mountain and growing along the west shores of the Long Lake, before the coming of the Dwarves exiled from Moria and the invasion of the Dragon. The Elvish folk of this realm had migrated from the south, being the kin and neighbours of the Elves of Lórien; but they had dwelt in Greenwood the Great east of Anduin.'" And then later in the same source, after making mention of the death of Oropher and Thranduil leading back home "barely a third of the army that had marched to war", it states: "A long peace followed in which the numbers of the Silvan Elves grew again; but they were unquiet and anxious, feeling the change of the world…more ominous were rumours from the further East: the Wild Men were restless. Former servants and worshippers of Sauron, they were released now from his tyranny, but not from the evil and darkness that he had set in their hearts. Cruel wars raged among them, from which some were withdrawing westward, with minds filled with hatred, regarding all that dwelt in the West as enemies to be slain and plundered…"

 _ **Thranduil's staff**_

Although not of Tolkien's canon I felt that the "magic" that Thranduil would be able to wield with his staff would be similar to what the wizards could do with theirs (though of course not with the same level of power). The reason for this is that a staff in the hand of any magical being is supposed to harness their power and enhance it. The fact that Tolkien also particularly mentioned that Thranduil's staff was made from oak I believe is rather important, as in British fairy lore oak is one of the three primary magical woods. Besides, Thranduil's elven magic alone would have to be quite powerful, since Tolkien, when he spoke of the Silvan Elves in the _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders_, says that "their magic was strong". He later says of the Light-Elves, the Deep-Elves and the Sea-Elves (the last being the Teleri from which Thranduil's people came) that they "went and lived for ages, and grew fairer and wiser and more learned, and invented their magic…." If you don't agree, that's fine, but this is my story and I'm using creative license! :)

 **Necklace of Thranduil's wife, Elwen**

In my story the necklace was a bridal gift to her from Melian – it was made from silver and from pearls taken from the shallow waters about the Isle of Balar and gifted to Elu Thingol by Círdan. Thingol gifted these to Melian, who in my story had some placed into a necklace and _presented it to Elwen upon her marriage to Thranduil. (For the history of the pearls see Unfinished Tales, Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin, Notes 28_ and _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 10 – Of the Sindar_ , that describes one in particular as being "as great as a dove's egg, and its sheen was as starlight on the foam of the seas".

 **Marriage between Elves**

In _Morgoth's Ring, Laws & Customs of the Eldar_ it says: "The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part…those who would afterwards become wedded might choose one another early in youth, even as children…in due time the betrothal was announced at a meeting of the two houses concerned, and the betrothed gave silver rings one to another…this betrothal was bound then to stand for one year at least…during this time it could be revoked by a public return of the rings…but the right of revoking was seldom used, for the Eldar do not err lightly in such choice. They are not easily deceived by their own kind…they are seldom swayed by the desires of the body only, but are by nature continent and steadfast….Then at a feast, again shared by the two houses, the marriage was celebrated…the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom joined the hands of the pair and blessed them…the betrothed then received back one from the other their silver rings (and treasured them); but they gave in exchange slender rings of gold, which were worn upon the index of the right hand."

Further, the source later states in relation to the death of a spouse: "Now marriage is chiefly of the body, but it is nonetheless not of the body only but of the spirit and body together, for it begins and endures in the will of the _fëa_. Therefore when one of the partners of a marriage dies the marriage is not yet ended, but is in abeyance. For those that were joined are now sundered; but their union remains still a union of will."

 **Personal Light of the Elves**

"Before long the Elves came down the lane … the hobbits could see the starlight glimmering on their hair and in their eyes. They bore no lights, yet as they walked a shimmer, like the light of the moon above the rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet." _LOTR, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 3 – Three is Company_

While the above quote may be interpreted to refer only to High Elves who might have somehow absorbed the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, in my opinion all Elves would therefore have some form of light about them given that the stars were (in Tolkien's world) created by Varda for the Elves' benefit from the dew collected from the Two Trees. As such, if Elves can indeed absorb light through some strange form of osmosis then with the amount of stargazing they do it makes sense that they all would "glow" a little. :)


	3. An Ominous Shadow Appears

**AUTHOR NOTE:** My thanks to everyone who is continuing to read this story, especially to those who have added it to their favourite/follow list. To **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** and **aficionada-de-libros** your lovely reviews have seen me through a rather hard week when I certainly needed the encouragement, so thank you again and I hope you enjoy this next chapter, which I dedicate to you both. :)

* * *

 _ **Part 3 – An Ominous Shadow Appears**_

Inhaling deeply, Thranduil's attention returned to the present as a clap of thunder broke across the sky, the sound heralding a heavier downfall of rain that smacked against the treetops and lashed the unprotected ground. In the far distance to the North he could clearly see the tumulus that sat atop the highest peak of his great cave, and under the mound of earth and stone lay the body of his Queen – safe and protected from any violation in her tomb hewn from the living stone. Upon the mound could also be seen a gathering of delicate white flowers that bloomed continually from the darkening days of autumn to the long bright days of summer.

Turning slightly towards the East, the Elvenking's hand tightened its grip upon his oaken staff, whilst his other clenched the hilt of the sword at his side as he looked grimly through the rain to gaze upon the shadowy heights of Erebor. Though every Orc guilty of assaulting his wife had been found and slain within its vast labyrinth of ancient tunnels, and despite the many search parties that had departed from his realm over the past millennia, no trace of Elwen's priceless silver and pearl necklace had ever been found within the Mountain's many caves and hidden passageways. Nor had the remnant of the band of orcs they had tracked to their lair held any knowledge of it. Still, Thranduil clung to the hope that one day the precious keepsake of his wife would be found and returned to him – if only so he could gift it to Legolas' bride should his son ever find a maid he desired to wed.

Slowly turning away from the sight of Erebor, the Elvenking's watchful gaze then fell upon the southern borders of his realm where the forest's tranquillity appeared only slightly disturbed by the storm as its inhabitants hid within its shelter. But as he carefully surveyed the view Thranduil's keen eyes narrowed and taking a step forward he focused all his attention on the air above the tall summit of Amon Lanc.

To a mortal man's eyes there would seem to be naught amiss; however, to the sharp sight of an Elf the disturbance was as clear as a bright lamp shining in the blackest night. The faint miasma of a dark presence hovered over the former capital of his realm where his father had dwelt for many years, and on the air there flickered the faint traces of a malevolent enchantment. For Thranduil, it bore a grim resemblance to some of the evil spells he had last seen over the foul pits of Mordor.

'Gildoron!'

At the Elvenking's serious tone the fair-haired Elf hastened forward. 'Have the party make ready to depart,' Thranduil ordered, 'and have word sent to Eraisuithan that we make for Amon Lanc. He is to continue to address any issues that may arise in my absence.'

'Yes My King.' With a small bow Gildoron turned and swiftly carried out the order so that within a moment a messenger had been despatched to the king's palace, and the group of Elves accompanying Thranduil were assembled and awaiting their king's command, which was not long in coming.

'We shall make with all haste to Amon Lanc,' he ordered, 'and be ever watchful, for a strange and ominous magic has appeared over that land.'

Then, with their lightly shod feet passing fleetly over the sodden ground so as to leave no trace of their steps, the Elves led by Thranduil moved quickly through the rain and began to descend the tallest hill of Emyn Duir in silence.

A short time later, having nimbly traversed the rocky paths and dense fir-woods of Emyn Duir, the Elves then followed the green ride that lay almost concealed by the thick foliage gathered at the foot of the great host of oak and beech trees. Several hours passed as the party of Elves ran swiftly along the path as it wove through the forest until it ended abruptly and there before them, a short distance away, lay the Forest Road.

'Come, what is this! Do you seek to join our merry party, my hasty friends?'

At the sound of the laughing voice the Elves all halted, and looking up they saw Legolas' fair countenance peering down at them from the highest bough of an ancient oak tree.

His stern expression softening slightly upon seeing his son's joyful smile, Thranduil's own lips curled up briefly as he called, 'your skill at concealing your presence continues to improve, Legolas.'

'I would not seek to disappoint you after all those lessons you gave me, Father,' Legolas replied merrily. Then with the swift nimbleness of a squirrel he descended the tall tree whilst calling out for his companions to join him.

As several other young Elves followed their prince and began to climb down their chosen trees to the ground, Legolas looked curiously at his parent.

'But where do you go in such haste, Father? And in the rain? It was not for me, I trust, that you came so swiftly.'

Placing a reassuring hand on Legolas' shoulder, Thranduil answered, 'nay, you are not the cause for our urgent pace, my son. There is a grave matter that requires investigation at Amon Lanc. You and your companions may remain here as we continue onward.'

'May we not accompany you?' Upon seeing the refusal beginning to take form on his father's lips, Legolas added, 'our number can only help should you encounter any trouble, and we are all of us skilled in the use of the bow and the blade.'

After considering the wisdom of his son's words the Elvenking reluctantly agreed. 'However, you are to remain at my side and obey my every word without question,' he instructed firmly, his tone brooking no opposition.

His blue eyes gleaming with innocent excitement Legolas quickly agreed, for never before had his father permitted him to venture forth on any expedition where there was a certainty of danger awaiting them.

As the other Elves joined the main group Thranduil declared, 'once we have passed over Men-i-Naugrim we shall not break to rest until we are within a league of Amon Lanc. Now come, and do not tarry; and may Elbereth grant us swift speed so we may reach our destination without delay.'

O * O

The afternoon was far advanced on the third day of their journey when Thranduil, Legolas and their party of Elves arrived at the abandoned stronghold that stood near the great treeless height of Amon Lanc. The remnants of the old elven fortress stood in desolate silence and the recent rainfall had created an eerily bleak greyness to the once beautiful stonewalls. Having looked upon the dismal sight before them, many of the Elves then cast glances over their shoulder towards the Greenwood, as though to reassure themselves that scenes of beauty still remained in the world.

'Divide into smaller parties and conduct a thorough search of the area,' Thranduil ordered. 'Proceed with caution and be constantly vigilant, for we do not know what manner of creature may be the cause of the dark shadow that now lies over this place.' Turning to his son, the Elvenking commanded, 'Legolas, you shall accompany me.'

With great relief did the young prince of Eryn Galen obey his father's edict, for the menacing gloom that shrouded the ancient dwelling had chilled the blood within his veins.

'Father, there is a sense of malice here that I have never before encountered,' Legolas murmured quietly as the two Elves carefully made their way along a wall and then down some broken steps towards the crumbled remains of the main courtyard.

'Long have I sought to shelter you from the darker forces that continue to dwell in these lands,' Thranduil revealed solemnly. 'When I led back what remained of our army after the battle at Dagorlad I vowed that I would do all I could to ensure my people lived in peaceful homes, in safe houses, in quiet dwellings. After your birth that vow became particularly centred on you. I did not wish for you to become acquainted with the evils that continue to inhabit this world, Legolas. A father's naïve folly, perhaps,' he concluded with a sigh.

Glancing up at his proud father, Legolas' bright eyes were filled with affection as he answered, 'I would not call it folly, Father, for assuredly that must be the hope of every parent.'

Suddenly, a cluttering of stones falling from above put an abrupt end to their dialogue. Looking upward the entire group of Elves spread throughout the ruins beheld the embarrassed expression of Mafortion, a rather brave but impulsive Elf, as he stood precariously balanced on a loose stone high up on one of the battlements.

'Have a care Mafortion that you do not bring the entire structure down about our ears.'

At his king's stern warning the young Elf nodded. 'I will be more careful, O King,' he promised.

As the Elves all returned to their search of the area, Thranduil and Legolas approached the broken doorway that gave entrance to the underground chambers.

'Though many years have passed since last our people dwelt here, a few torches should still remain within the passageway.' Gazing down at his son the Elvenking said, 'I shall enter first, Legolas. Time may have changed its appearance but I have walked these paths a thousand times over and therefore know every secret alcove and sudden step. Be on your guard and follow in my footsteps.'

'I will, Father.'

Then, with his blue eyes shining brightly in the shadows, Thranduil stepped through the doorway and into the dim passage.

Never losing sight of the golden radiance of his father's hair, Legolas followed behind him slowly; his own eyes sharpened for any movement in the oppressive darkness. But when, at a single wave of his father's hand, several torches flared to life, Legolas could not conceal his sigh of relief.

'Be of brave heart, Legolas,' Thranduil said gently without turning around, 'and always remember it is not the dark itself that brings harm – only that which lurks in it!'

Grasping his bow more firmly the prince of Eryn Galen replied honestly, 'were it normal darkness it would not trouble me. However, there is an unnatural cause to the blinding gloom within these walls that unsettles my mind. Your light provided a moment of rest to my uneasy thoughts.'

 _Would that it could ease my own_ , the Elvenking thought grimly. _There is an ill sorcery at work in this place and it grows ever stronger the deeper we go._

Continuing to move forward the two Elves encountered no obstacle nor perilous conflict to hinder their way, and yet the sense of danger grew heavier about them as they walked in silence.

Approaching the last passageway that would lead them up to the southern entrance, Thranduil suddenly halted. There! Away to the far left in the flickering light of the torches something had glittered upon the ground.

Motioning for Legolas to remain behind the Elvenking slowly went towards the object to determine what it might be.

Watching as his father knelt upon the hard stone, Legolas strove to contain his curiosity until his parent's quiet voice summoned him to his side.

'Not easily do the strong blades of men shatter,' Thranduil murmured, 'and yet, here lies one that can never again be reforged.' Indicating the tiny shards of steel that lay scattered on the dusty floor, Thranduil explained, 'a great force was brought to bear upon the blade to crush it so completely. One must wonder what happened to its master. Come, let us move onward.'

Frowning, Legolas asked, 'should we not remove the shards?'

'Nay, let them lie. A foul poison now stains their brightness. We shall have the entrances barred ere we depart so no innocent creature or lost wanderer stumbles upon their deadly point.'

Gazing after his father who was walking away without a single backward glance, Legolas quickly followed and the two soon found themselves passing through the southern entrance. On this side of the old fortress greater ruin greeted them: a fire, most deliberately lit, had scorched the earth and left barren what was once in Thranduil's memory a beautiful garden. No seedling grew here, where the stone pavement had cracked and fallen away; and no nest of fledglings could be seen hiding in the broken wall. And there, beyond the great gate, the wide bridge that lay over the deep ravine, and which had seen many a weary traveller welcomed by his father, had become a treacherous passage where one wrong step would send the unwary down into the yawning chasm beneath.

'Sad is the day when a happy memory is destroyed by so bleak a reminder.' His eyes revealing the depths of his sorrow Thranduil turned away, and walking towards a rocky alcove located at the far end of the dead garden he called, 'evening is almost upon us, Legolas. Once we have searched this space we shall withdraw and then return when the light of morning arrives to aid us.'

His heart greatly uplifted by these words, Legolas hurried forward, for the dismal prospect of lingering within the forbidding ruins during the long hours of night had quite silenced his adventurous spirit. Besides, he yearned for the peaceful surroundings of the green forest where the trees whispered their secrets and the stars shone brightly upon his face as he stood beneath their silver radiance.

From his place in front of his son as he neared the wall of natural rock and its dark entrance, Thranduil felt a sudden sharp pang of warning inside his mind as the ominous presence grew heavier and the smell of strong, malevolent magic increased. Focusing his keen gaze upon the opening that gaped like the mouth of a deep well, the Elvenking peered into the inky blackness.

'There is a depth to this darkness that is new,' he observed quietly. 'Long ago on a moonless night one could still see a glimmer of the fine stones embedded in the farthest rock wall. Now there is an empty void. I must enter and see whither it will go. Stay and keep watch here, Legolas.'

Like the dying light of a guttering candle, Legolas' thoughts of a pleasant evening in the forest swiftly vanished.

'Nay, Father,' he protested in concern. 'Two sets of eyes in such darkness would be better than one!'

'And a guard on the only entrance will prevent any unpleasant creature from coming in behind me.' Observing his son preparing a further protest, Thranduil raised his hand. 'Your words will not sway me, my son, and you did promise to obey without question.'

Unhappily, Legolas had to concede the truth in his father's response.

'Then I will await your return here as you command, Father,' he said reluctantly, and watched in troubled silence as Thranduil's tall form disappeared through the shadowed opening.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again for reading. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Eyesight of the Elves**_

In all his writing Tolkien made it clear that the Elves have very keen eyesight. In _The Hobbit, Chapter 9 – Barrels Out of Bond_ the narrative says that the weapons of the dwarves would be "of no use against the arrows of the elves that could hit a bird's eye in the dark." Then in _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 2 – The Riders of Rohan,_ Legolas can see, describe and count the members of Éomer's group from a distance of 15 miles. He even passes this off as nothing too spectacular when Aragorn mentions his keen eyesight by saying rather dismissively, "the riders are little more than five leagues distant." Then in _Chapter 7 – Helm's Deep,_ Gandalf says to Legolas that he has keen eyes and that "they can tell a sparrow from a finch a league off."

 **From the Forest Road to Amon Lanc**

The distance from the Forest Road (Men-i-Naugrim) to Amon Lanc (aka Dol Guldur) appears to be a distance of almost 250 miles for the birds of the air, according to the second enlarged map found in _The Lord of the Rings_. Apparently, the Spartathalon, the marathon race that covers the 153 mile course from Athens to Sparta that the Greek messenger Pheidippedes ran in 490BC, has to be completed within 36 hours. That means the runners need to cover at least 4.25 miles in an hour if they are going to be running non-stop (though I'm sure they cover more miles in an hour and take short breaks at intervals). Given that Elves do not tire as easily as mortal men (see the quote below about Legolas from LOTR) I estimated that if Elves ran continuously for 250 miles (covering the same distance of 4.25 miles in an hour) they should arrive within 58-59 hours (or 2 ½ days). Quite frankly, that all sounds very exhausting and I'd be finding a handsome Elf like Thranduil to carry me! ;)

Also, using the famous moment in _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 2 – The Riders of Rohan_ where Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are tracking the Uruk-Hai, Éomer states that "Forty leagues and five you have measured ere the fourth day is ended!". A league historically means a distance of 3 miles so in the space of less than four days, a man, an elf and a dwarf covered a distance of 135 miles on foot – with rest periods granted for Aragorn and Gimli, as apparently Legolas "still stepped as lightly as ever … and he could sleep, if sleep it could be called by Men, resting his mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as he walked open-eyed in the light of this world." This means that they were covering on average almost 34 miles a day, although they would have covered more in the first two days as they "were going slowly" by the third day as poor Gimli's "back was bent" and even Aragorn was growing weary.


	4. Of Evil, Fear & Pain

**AUTHOR NOTE:** My apologies for the late posting of this chapter. The father of a very dear friend of mine passed away and time got away from me.

My thanks again to all of you who are still reading, with an extra special thank you going out once more to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** for your review. It makes my day so much brighter reading your lovely comments, so I am certainly more than happy to dedicate this chapter to you. :)

* * *

 _ **Part 4 – Of Evil, Fear & Pain**_

His feet treading soundlessly upon the uneven ground the Elvenking made his way warily to the vacant space where once had been a great wall of solid rock. Cautiously reaching out, Thranduil lightly touched one of the rock's jagged edges – only to recoil instantly as though burned when his elven senses felt a murky power lingering within the blackened stone.

 _What fell being entered this place? And who would seek to conceal their presence with the vilest dark magic?_

Resolved to discover the answer to his unspoken questions, Thranduil firmly grasped his staff and laying a hand upon the hilt of his sword stepped through the hole and into the dim cavern beyond.

With no torch to aid him in the oppressive darkness, Thranduil stepped lightly upon the ground, his way guided only by the luminous starlight that shone from his hair and the shimmering light that fell about his feet like the white glow of the rising moon.

All was eerily silent inside the cave; the unnatural stillness continuing to surround the Elvenking as he walked ever deeper into the menacing shadows – the pitch blackness of the cave's interior making it difficult to determine its depth.

His senses alert for any sign of danger, Thranduil paused the instant he heard a sudden, faint scuttering approaching him from in front. Reacting without hesitation, he raised his right hand and with a single gesture brought forth a burning light that dispelled the insidious gloom. But in the brightness of those same shining rays was revealed a swarming host of giant spiders hurrying towards him!

'The beasts of Nan Dungortheb!'

Hissing and clicking their fearsome sharp beaks, the spawn of Ungoliant moved swiftly; their hairy black legs, which were monstrous in size, carrying them quickly along the wide stone passage from their hidden lairs that lay down in the darkest crevices. Clusters of eyes brimming with malicious hate glinted with evil intent as the most treacherous and foulest of creatures bore down upon the lone figure of the Elvenking. Such was the greed of the spiders for Elf-flesh that they fast forgot the pain so recently inflicted by the burst of pure light and moved with horrible speed; their fat bellies swelling with anticipation of the delicious feast before them.

A towering, fiery red flame blazing into life behind him at a single small wave of his hand, Thranduil retreated hastily, knowing he would soon be overwhelmed on all sides if he remained. The fire rapidly spread across the path behind him and the cavernous space was soon filled with terrible rasping screams as the spiders felt the scorching heat burn their putrid flesh.

Racing towards the gaping hole in the rock wall through which he could see the dim outline of the outer entrance, Thranduil leapt through the opening – only to feel agonising lances of pain suddenly erupt across his back and shoulders as a heavy weight descended upon him.

One spider, nimbler and faster than the others, had braved the torment of the elven fire and sprung upon the tasty morsel that smelt of the juiciest meat; the sharp claws on the ends of its legs cutting into tender flesh as its long sting quickly pierced Thranduil's side.

Feeling the foul toxin from the creature begin to flow into his blood, Thranduil drew his dagger from its concealed sheath and stabbed at the spider's hard tail where its stinger was still embedded in his flesh. With a squealing hiss of agony the spider convulsed violently as the elven blade repeatedly found its mark.

'FATHER!'

Drawn by the increasingly dreadful noises filling the cave, Legolas' startled cry of horror as he suddenly ran through the outer entrance was swiftly followed by a fleeting whisper of sound and another piercing scream from the spider. The abrupt stillness of the creature followed by its body crashing to the ground confirmed that Legolas' arrow had penetrated one of its eyes with deadly accuracy.

Leaning heavily upon his staff as the spider's poison coursed through his veins, Thranduil stumbled forward, the dagger falling from his hand to clatter against the rocks beneath his feet.

His face unnaturally pale in fear, Legolas raced forward and caught the Elvenking's body as it began to collapse.

'Father!' The frantic cry echoed down to the darkest recesses of the cave. 'Father!'

'Legolas.' The low, pained whisper of his son's name was Thranduil's only response before his voice fell silent and a terrifying stillness came over his body.

Hearing the horrible screeches from the dying spiders behind them where the red flames continued to burn, Legolas clutched his father's limp form to his side and hurriedly made for the outer entrance. Having passed through the opening he immediately set up such a desperate cry that all the Elves scattered throughout the area responded instantly.

Their hearts perturbed by the fear in his voice, the Elves ran with the swiftest of speed towards the southern garden. There they came upon Legolas kneeling beside their king, who lay outstretched and frighteningly still on the barren ground.

His grey eyes filled with concern, Gildoron was the first to reach them, and, sparing a brief comforting touch to Legolas' shoulder, he asked without ceremony, 'what harm has befallen him?'

The answer when it came startled the Elves and filled their minds with dread.

'A poison from the spawn of Ungoliant's accurst brood.' Paying slight heed to the gasps of dismay his response elicited, Legolas shifted to remove the cloak from around Thranduil's shoulders. 'My father discovered a colony of them nested within the pits of that foul cave. Flame and light has hopefully destroyed all the rest of their number, but one I slew as it attacked him.' As he spoke, Legolas tossed aside the bloodstained cloak to reveal where the spider's clawed legs had torn through his father's raiment to inflict grievous wounds upon his body.

'Set a watch upon that entrance and should any surviving spiders attempt to come out show them no mercy,' Gildoron commanded, his position as a trusted friend and advisor to the king ensuring his authority went unchallenged. 'And, as that land lies nearest, send a winged messenger with all haste to King Amroth in Lórien where Master Elrond and his Lady are visiting her kin. Let them inform Master Elrond that we require his urgent assistance, for these injuries reek of a poisonous fume that are beyond the abilities of all but the most skilled of healers.'

His concentration focused solely upon his father, Legolas did not even glance up as the Elves rushed to obey Gildoron's orders. Instead, he gently lifted his father's long strands of golden hair from where they lay across his back and moved them to the side. Then, using the holes in his father's tunic and shirt where the spider's claws had cut through, he tore the fabric asunder until the bleeding wounds were fully exposed. 'We shall need fresh hot water to cleanse them before any form of healing can be done,' he said urgently.

'There is a small stream that flows within half a league of here,' Gildoron replied. 'I shall have some brought to you.'

'Nay,' Legolas refused. 'Rather would I have my father removed from this vile place where the tainted air may yet cause further harm to him. Therefore, summon forth a group to have him moved as near to the stream as possible. Let the fires also be lit and a poultice prepared ere the first stars of evening appear in the sky.'

Acknowledging the wisdom in Legolas' words, Gildoron swiftly had the orders given and within moments the two Elves formed the head of the procession that carried the Elvenking's unconscious body away into the forest.

O * O

The Greenwood lay blanketed in a tense silence. Word of Thranduil's uncertain fate had soon spread, and there was not even the hushed whisper of a field mouse scurrying along the ground to be heard as all the forest awaited further news from the small clearing near Amon Lanc where the Elves watched over their king.

Placed upon a bed of soft green grass under a canopy of trees, the Elvenking lay in a deathlike stillness. His face was a shade of white like that of bones bleached by the sun and all breath seemed captured inside his body. Had it not been for the faint glimmer of light that still shone about him all would have believed his spirit and body to be sundered from each other. Upon the pale bare flesh of his back and shoulders the dreadful damage inflicted by the spider radiated a black aura; the darkness mingling with the deep red of spilt blood that continued to seep from his wounds.

Beside Thranduil's body Legolas knelt alone, having refused to permit any other to aid him in washing his proud father's injuries. _None save myself should perform so personal a task for him,_ _who is both my father, and my king,_ he had informed Gildoron firmly when the Elf had tried to protest.

Quietly singing a slow song in his own elven-tongue as he gazed down upon his father and bathed the deep cuts, Legolas fought against the cold despair that was seeking to enter into his heart. Throughout all his life his father had been a figure of indomitable force, always reassuring in his strength and majestic in his bearing; and now, seeing him as defenceless as a newborn fawn, the prince of Eryn Galen had the frightening realisation that, just like all the Firstborn of Ilúvatar's children, his father could still suffer physical injury and be parted from him.

Cleaning the last of the Elvenking's wounds, Legolas laid aside the bowl of water he held, and gently brushing away a stray golden hair from the pale face below him, murmured softly, 'should I lose you then no joy shall I find in this world again. No song would our people ever hear issue forth from me, e'en should a thousand ages pass, for no words could express the depths of the sorrow that would overwhelm my spirit. Father, you are the one whom I hold most dear, so please, I beseech you, leave me not here alone. Awaken from this strange slumber, and once again let me hear your beloved voice say my name.'

But all his pleas were in vain and fell unheard by the Elvenking who remained as cold and still as any statue.

Over by the flickering shadows cast by the crackling red fires many of the other Elves stood in silence, their merry countenances now turned solemn and stern as they kept vigil over their king.

By one fire Gildoron sat singing in hushed tones whilst leaning over a small bowl, and from the shiny vessel there arose a sweet fragrance. The scent, clear and pure, brought a measure of hope to the minds of those who watched as Gildoron arose and carried the bowl with extreme care to Legolas.

His eyes fixed intently upon Thranduil's body, it was as he scrutinised the cuts more closely that Legolas beheld a darker hue near the end of one that ran down to his father's right side. Reaching out with cautious fingers he carefully felt the surrounding area about the wound, and as he searched his expression grew increasingly uneasy.

'Gildoron! There is a small hole that lies close to where the spider tore into his flesh,' he exclaimed worriedly; 'and a strange object is embedded there.'

His face exceedingly grave, the older Elf knelt upon the ground and examined the marred skin. 'In Beleriand there were stories that told of the foul beasts that dwelt within the dark shadows of Ered Gorgoroth,' he said grimly. 'The tales spoke of the evil webs of Ungoliant and her foul offspring where they captured and fed off those unwary enough to wander near those lands. It was believed the unfortunate ones were paralysed and then bound in thick layers of spun silken cords, such as is done by the much smaller breed of spiders to their prey. It is possible that the object you have found is the method by which they quell the resistance of their victims.'

'We shall have to remove it,' Legolas stated.

'Yes, but have a care,' Gildoron warned, 'there may still be lingering traces of poison upon it.'

Extracting a sharp knife from his belt, Legolas bent over and peered closely at the wound. 'I can see the tip,' he said, and placing the blade against his father's skin he made a small incision before moving to pull out the broken tail of the spider's stinger. The black thin fragment exuded a terrible odour and Legolas hastily dropped it into the bowl of water beside him.

Summoning one of the Elves standing nearby, Gildoron ordered, 'take the abominable thing away, but do not destroy it. Master Elrond may be able to determine what manner of poison it contained.'

As the Elf hurried away, another approached carrying a full bowl of more hot water that was swiftly handed to Legolas, who immediately began to slowly pour it over the small hole in Thranduil's side whilst singing the same slow chant as when he had bathed the other wounds.

Returning his attention to the young prince beside him, Gildoron instructed, 'once you have cleansed that area, the poultice must be applied firmly. When the mixture becomes fully dry and the scent grows stale, remove it carefully and wash the remains away. A fresh dressing should then be applied. Continue the cycle throughout the night until the first light of dawn shines across the sky. Then shall we have to start moving towards the edge of the forest's border to meet Master Elrond as he journeys from Lórien. I shall go now to have a litter made ready to bear King Thranduil, and to discover if any word has been received from King Amroth. If you have need of me, I shall not be far.'

Nodding his thanks, Legolas did not halt his slow singing as he continued to pour the clean water over his father's side. When he had finished he exchanged the empty bowl for the one containing the poultice, and then, with gentle hands, began to apply the mixture that was made from a careful selection of forest plants to the wounds that tainted the Elvenking's fair skin.

'I know not if their healing power is strong enough to fight the poison of those fell creatures,' Legolas informed his unresponsive father, 'but it may yet help to alleviate its effects until such time as Elrond arrives. Also, you need not be concerned for your staff of carven oak. I have it quite safe here beside me, and there it shall remain until you are restored to me again to claim its rightful return.'

The brave, hopeful words were belied by the shimmering tears that escaped Legolas' eyes and slowly trickled down his cheeks, to then fall like delicate drops of rain upon his father's flesh, their clear brilliance glistening like precious jewels in the evening light – until time erased them.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Don't hate me too much for hurting Thranduil!

 **REFERENCES**

 **Ungoliant & her spawn**

Having lived in Doriath, Beleriand, Thranduil would have known about and most likely have seen a few of the spawn of Ungoliant that dwelt in Ered Gorgoroth, especially after Doriath fell and the spiders would have been free to enter the once protected realm.

"There [in Cirith Ungol] agelong she had dwelt, an evil thing in spider-form, even such as once of old had lived in the Land of the Elves in the West that is now under the Sea [Beleriand], such as Beren fought in the Mountains of Terror in Doriath, and so came to Lúthien upon the green sward amid the hemlocks in the moonlight long ago. How Shelob came there, flying from ruin, no tale tells, for out of the Dark Years few tales have come. But still she was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dûr; and she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness. Far and wide her lesser broods, bastards of the miserable mates, her own offspring, that she slew, spread from glen to glen, from the Ephel Dúath to the eastern hills, to Dol Guldur and the fastnesses of Mirkwood. But none could rival her, Shelob the Great, last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world." _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 9 – Shelob's_ Lair

"With their whips of flame they smote asunder the webs of Ungoliant, and she quailed, and turned to flight…and fleeing from the north she went down into Beleriand, and dwelt beneath Ered Gorgoroth, in that dark valley that was after called Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of Dreadful Death, because of the horror that she bred there. For other foul creatures of spider form had dwelt there since the days of the delving of Angband, and she mated with them, and devoured them; and even after Ungoliant herself departed…her offspring abode there and wove their hideous webs." _The Silmarillion,_ _Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 9_ _\- Of the Flight of the Noldor_

"…her beak drabbling a spittle of venom, and a green ooze trickling from below her wounded eye. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring – this time to crush and sting to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to slay and then to rend." _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 10 – The Choices of Master Samwise_

 **Amroth of Lórien**

The following quote comes from _Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, IV The History of Galadriel & Celeborn: _

"Amroth was King of Lórien, after his father Amdir was slain in the Battle of Dagorlad. His land had peace for many years after the defeat of Sauron. Though Sindarin in descent he lived after the manner of the Silvan Elves…this he did because of his love for Nimrodel."

 **From Amon Lanc to Lórien**

"Beyond the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless and vague, until far away it rose again like a wall, dark and drear. The sun that lay on Lothlórien had not power to enlighten the shadow of that distant height. 'There lies the fastness of Southern Mirkwood,' said Haldir. 'It is clad in a forest of dark fir, where the trees strive one against another … In the midst upon a stony height stands Dol Guldur … A black cloud lies often over it of late. In this high place you may see the two powers that are opposed one to another….'" _LOTR, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 6 – Lothlórien_

According to the second enlarged map in _The Lord of the Rings_ it would be that as the birds fly Lothlórien is only about 100 miles from Dol Guldur (admittedly if you're walking there is a bit of forest and the Anduin running between them as well). Using the same calculation as before (that Elves should be able to cover a distance of 4.25 miles every hour) and also making allowance for rough terrain that would be an estimate of about 26 hours for an Elf to get from where Thranduil was hurt to the Elves in Lothlórien, and vice versa. Of course, a bird may deliver a message much more quickly not having to deal with navigating around forests and wide rivers! :)

 **Celeborn and Galadriel visiting Amroth and then Thranduil's Realm**

Although the following quote implies that Galadriel and Celeborn did not arrive in Lórien until a bit after "the shadow" descended upon Thranduil's realm I took a bit of licence and had them visiting Amroth during the events of this story (and given Tolkien himself sometimes wrote contradicting passages in his different writings I feel I can get away with it!). :)

"But during the Third Age Galadriel became filled with foreboding, and with Celeborn she journeyed to Lórien and stayed there long with Amroth, being especially concerned to learn all news and rumours of the growing shadow in Mirkwood and the dark stronghold in Dol Guldur….Therefore after long journeys of enquiry in Rhovanion, from Gondor and the borders of Mordor to Thranduil in the north, Celeborn and Galadriel passed over the mountain to Imladris." Excerpt from _Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, IV The History of Galadriel & Celeborn._


	5. Grim Tidings

**AUTHOR NOTE:** My thanks to all you wonderful people out there who are continuing to read this story. And as always a special word of gratitude to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** , **aficionada-de-libros** and **PegasusWingsVW** for your very kind and positive reviews. I can only show my appreciation for your support by dedicating this chapter to you. I hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 5 – Grim Tidings**_

As the sun's early rays broke over the eastern sky the following morning the Elves set out from the small clearing. No songs were sung, nor were many words spoken, as they moved carefully with their king laid upon a litter, his body lying still in a cold death-like state. With heavy hearts they bypassed the now blighted land surrounding Amon Lanc and continued towards the south-east, passing through the dense gathering of fir-trees, until finally as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, they came out through the final cluster of leaves. Then, with great skill and the nimble steps of their race, they gracefully descended the steep slope that led down from the eaves of the forest to the ancient path laid down by the Silvan Elves.

Upon reaching the path, they looked across the valley that lay a short distance below to where they could see in the far distance the sparkling waters of the Anduin as it flowed before the golden woods of Lórien. And there, moving swiftly up from the great river where several long white barges now lay moored on the east bank, came a large party of Elves led by the Lord Celeborn and Master Elrond, as promised by King Amroth in the message carried back to Gildoron.

'Let us continue on to the bottom of the valley and make camp,' Legolas said, looking down to the field where the grass, green and thick, covered the ground like a luxurious carpet, with only large grey stones to disturb its smooth appearance. 'It will take Elrond some hours to travel the remaining distance, but that should allow us the time to find the herbs and plants he requested and have the fires made ready.'

From his place beside Legolas, Gildoron agreed. 'I shall take a small party and gather what we shall require from the forest,' he said. 'You, young Legolas, should remain by the King's side and ensure a suitable campsite is established.'

'That was my intention Gildoron, for there is no power in this world that could induce or force me to leave my father whilst he lies injured,' Legolas declared softly, his blue eyes glinting with steely resolve. 'And the preparations shall all be completed ere the first of your party returns.'

O * O

True to his word, Legolas had the campsite organised and several fires burning brightly in the darkening valley before the first member of Gildoron's group hastily made his way past the outer guards towards him.

'Prince Legolas, my apologies for the delay,' the dark-haired Elf said sincerely, 'but we have had to travel farther than expected to obtain these as a strange sickness has infected the plants nearest to the southern edge of the forest.'

Accepting the pouch that the Elf had removed from the belt secured around his waist, Legolas extracted the fresh leaves from it and placed them carefully inside a bowl that lay on a flat stone; the bowl being close to where Thranduil's body had been positioned upon the ground with Legolas' own cloak covering him. Returning the pouch to its owner, Legolas observed, 'Miluion, the Lord of Imladris is now scarce five leagues away. We shall swiftly need the other items he mentioned so as to have everything in readiness for his arrival.'

'We are searching with all speed, O Prince,' Miluion replied quietly, his eyes briefly glancing towards Thranduil's motionless form. 'And we shall endeavour to have the remaining requirements to you without delay.' Then, with a quick bow, he quickly departed.

His stern expression becoming increasingly grim as he turned and knelt beside his father, Legolas carefully removed the cloak that covered Thranduil's naked back and examined the inflamed wounds that continued to emit an ominous aura.

'It is certainly a foul and dark evil that infects you, Father,' he murmured quietly, his eyes filled with grave concern. Laying his hands gently on Thranduil's bare skin, Legolas whispered a flowing chant in soft tones as he gazed intently at his father's face; but the Elvenking continued to lie in unresponsive silence, with not even a flicker of an eyelash to fan the spark of hope that continued to dwell in Legolas' heart.

A small sigh escaping his lips, Legolas lifted his hands from Thranduil's back and replaced the cloak over his father. Then moving forward he lightly touched the Elvenking's deathly white cheek that lay visible to his sight – the icy chill of his father's flesh sending a shiver through his body.

'O Father, I know it is a strange and malevolent sickness that lingers within you, but please hear my voice and go not to the Halls of Mandos!' he pleaded, uncaring of the guards standing nearby who would hear the imploring words meant only for his father's ears. 'Your presence has always brought me great comfort and you have never failed to reassure me of your love, even when I knowingly disobeyed you. Do you remember the time it happened, Father? I am sure you will never forget, for you must have been frantic when neither my nurse, Raina, nor anyone in the palace could find me.'

Shifting to a more comfortable position, Legolas sat upon the ground and grasping his father's hand that lay closest to him, he quietly began recounting the story in the hope that the sound of his voice would elicit some form of response from his father.

'After Mother died you rarely let me out of your sight – a blessing that comforted my spirit and brought healing to my confused and afflicted heart. You did not seem to ever grow tired of my company, though I never wearied of discovering new wonders that I insisted you needed to see, or thinking of new questions to ask you. But one answer you were never able to give was the whereabouts of Mother's necklace, no matter how many times I asked; and with every apologetic response you gave I could sense the pain it caused you to have to disappoint me so that eventually I stopped asking, and instead attempted to help with the search for the necklace. The morning when I first tried to follow one of the groups into the forest I thought I would succeed in my endeavour until I peered around a corner and saw you waiting before the great gates. Never had I seen such a severe expression on your face, nor heard your voice sound so stern as when you forbade me to ever leave the palace alone until I was of age. I did not intend to ever disobey you, especially after you embraced me saying you feared to lose me, but then came the day during our first winter without Mother when I overheard Eglerion conversing with some of the guards.

'You had been gone several days to deal with a fire that threatened the northern border, leaving me in the care of Raina and Amaniel, when another of the search parties returned to report that they had again failed to recover the necklace. I had been hiding from Amaniel under your throne when the group entered the great hall and I heard them say that it must lie deep within the ancient mining tunnels of Erebor. I did not know that you had long suspected that the Mountain was where the necklace lay hidden and so, in my young folly, thought that I would brave the dark tunnels and recover it for you.'

A small smile appeared briefly on Legolas' face as he paused and closed his eyes in almost rueful embarrassment at his younger self's naivety.

'As I tearfully explained afterward when you had reprimanded me most severely for my foolishness, I wanted desperately to help you,' he finally continued, 'and I believed that finding the necklace would lift some of the heavy sorrow that I could always sense was dwelling inside you, no matter how well you attempted to conceal it from me. Therefore, after the group departed from the great hall, I did not delay in making my way to your chambers to leave my hastily written letter explaining where I had gone for you to find. Then I gathered my small bow and stealthily crept through the secret passageway that leads away from your chamber and down to the concealed gate in the river. Upon your return and after you were informed of my disappearance I can only guess at the depth of apprehension you must have felt when you realised that was how I managed to get outside the palace, for the water runs quite quickly near the gate and if I had lacked the strength to swim to the opposite shore I undoubtedly would have drowned. And surely your mind for the three days I was missing must have been afflicted with the greatest torment.

'When you found me late in the evening of the third day as I rested near the river, your expression was so austere as you hurried out from behind the trees that I truly thought I had angered you beyond all hope of forgiveness. I can only marvel that your first act was not to rebuke me for wandering off alone towards Erebor, but to race forward and pick me up in your arms whilst saying you love me and then to thank Elbereth for keeping me safe.

'That day was when I truly learnt the depth of your love for me. You carried me home and not one word of reproach did I hear from your mouth until I had eaten and rested – and even then your stern reprimand was more focused on the danger in which I had placed myself than on the fact I had knowingly disobeyed you. You told me that I am more precious to you than any treasure of silver or gold, or a jewel of immeasurable price, and that I was to never again risk my safety for such ephemeral possessions.'

His voice falling silent, Legolas gazed intently at his father's face hoping for even the smallest of movements to bring a flicker of life to the unnaturally pale skin. However, Thranduil remained unresponsive; his fair elven features continuing to resemble those of a statue carved from the whitest marble, whilst a gentle breeze stirred the glistening strands of his long golden hair that flowed from the crown of his head to pool in a shimmering mass on the green grass behind him.

After a long pause in which nothing was heard over the faint rustle of leaves from the forest and the crackle of burning wood in the bright fires, Legolas quietly admitted, 'I had not thought there could be anything more terrible than being the cause of your anguished state of mind, but the enduring of your silence is proving to be the worst of tortures. However, long will I patiently suffer it if Elbereth may but grant you the strength to withstand this dark affliction until Elrond arrives and heals you. And may she guard me against the despair that seeks to cast its shadow upon my mind and overwhelm my heart.'

Then tightening his grip more firmly around his father's hand, Legolas proceeded to begin another verbal account of one of his earlier adventures – this time involving his overly curious nature during a spring feast, a startled deer and a cask of his father's finest Dorwinion wine that met with an unfortunate end.

O * O

When the party from Lórien arrived at the campsite the evening sky was a shroud of deep indigo that stretched across the land, with the darkness alleviated only by the silver light of the stars that shone brilliantly in the moonless night.

At the head of the company the two tall Elf-lords, Celeborn and Elrond, moved swiftly towards the heavy guard that stood in vigilant watch around their king and his son. To any creature fortunate enough to witness their approach it was as though the radiance of the stars and the beauty of night had been embodied, for the Lord Celeborn was clad wholly in white and his long hair was a pure silver that shone brightly, while Master Elrond wore garments of deep mahogany and his hair was as dark as the shadows of twilight. No sign of age lined their fair and noble faces, but in their clear grey eyes shone a depth of memory that told of many joys and grievous sorrow.

Passing unimpeded through the Elvenking's guard, the trusted friends of Thranduil quickly reached Legolas who arose with swift grace from his position beside his father's body to greet them most warmly.

'Hail, Lord Celeborn, Master Elrond! I thank you for hastening to my father's aid. When I saw you draw nigh to the edge of the camp new hope strengthened my spirit and a great weight seemed to be lifted from my heart.'

'Greetings to you, young Legolas, son of Thranduil,' Celeborn replied solemnly. 'Alas that our meeting should fall under such grave circumstances. King Amroth has charged us to ensure you are offered every assistance, whilst my lady Galadriel and my daughter Celebrían did hastily with their ladies prepare a fresh supply of _lembas_ to sustain us through these long days.'

Elrond, his face bearing an expression of anxious concern, spoke his own greeting before enquiring, 'has your father regained awareness since last Gildoron sent word to us?'

'Nay, he has not,' Legolas answered, his gaze returning to where Thranduil lay upon the ground. 'I have attempted to rouse him several times, but he remains frozen in a strange stillness and the injuries inflicted upon him resist all efforts to heal them.'

'I did hear you speaking to him as we approached,' Elrond told him quietly, 'be assured Legolas that when no other remedy is available the sound of a beloved one's voice is the best method by which we may help someone's spirit remain attached to their body. Your words, even though he lies apparently unresponsive, would have reached your father and given him the strength to endure until we arrived. Now, may I examine him?'

It was clear from his determined expression that the request by the Lord of Imladris was a mere courtesy and that nothing would prevent him from aiding his old friend.

With a small bow Legolas stepped aside, thus granting Elrond unobstructed access to the wounded Elvenking.

As he knelt beside his friend, Elrond reached out and laid his right hand against Thranduil's forehead whilst grasping one of the king's cold hands in his left. Then closing his eyes he murmured a string of soft lilting words that warmed the very air around him; the musical cadence of his clear voice weaving a beautiful melody that eased the hearts of those that heard it and calmed their anxious spirits.

Eventually Elrond fell silent. Then, moving his hands to the cloak covering Thranduil's back, he shifted it away to reveal the damage inflicted upon the Elvenking's fair skin. His face becoming increasingly grim, Elrond frowned heavily as he carefully searched each injury with his fingers. Upon observing the small incision made by Legolas, he asked sharply, 'what was removed from here?'

'A broken piece of the spider's stinger,' Legolas replied instantly, 'we have the fragment should you need to examine it.'

'Have it brought hither to me,' Elrond instructed. As one of the guards was despatched to retrieve it, he rose to his feet and moved towards the flat stone where Legolas had arranged for the items he had requested to be placed.

'I shall need a pot of freshly boiled water,' he stated, 'and Celeborn, have them erect the tent around this area, for this healing will be a private and painful experience and I would not have his people witness Thranduil in so vulnerable a state.'

'We have some water already prepared,' Legolas said, beckoning an Elf to his side who promptly arrived bearing a large pot of water from which issued forth clouds of steam.

'Place it there beside the stone,' Elrond directed, 'but first pour a small amount into an empty bowl.'

After the Elf had completed his task and withdrawn, Legolas watched as Elrond unflinchingly placed his hands inside the bowl of hot water and washed his hands thoroughly. Not a word was spoken as the Lord of Imladris then turned and with skilful precision selected the amounts he required from the various items collected from the forest, crushed them between his fingers, and dropped them into the large pot of boiling water.

As the leaves and strange assortment of bark and flowers intermingled, Elrond sang a slow song over the steaming brew until a sweet fragrance permeated the area around him and the mixture began to thicken into a peculiar form of porridge. Then, having allowed the contents of the pot to cool slightly, he began to apply generous amounts to the horrific wounds that marred Thranduil's back and shoulders.

Meanwhile, Celeborn had efficiently directed several of his Elves in the erection of the tent around Thranduil, Elrond and Legolas. The tent was a fine construct made from light silken material that when first unravelled was the brown hue of a farrow field, but which then became a shimmering blend of grey and silver in the shifting light of the fires.

As the last silken drape fell into place, and lamps were placed inside its spacious interior, the guard returned with the bowl containing the broken remnant of the spider's stinger. Following Celeborn into the tent, the guard handed the bowl over to Elrond and then withdrew.

A frown creating deep furrows in his brow, Elrond looked upon the vile black object that lay surrounded by water now turned a dark murky colour and which was rank with an unpleasant odour.

'It reeks of the same noxious fumes that were carried upon the winds from Ered Gorgoroth,' Celeborn remarked, his face darkening at the dread memories awakened by the smell. 'Ungoliant's spawn infested those lands, and when the treacherous naugrim of Nogrod slew my kinsman, Elu Thingol, and the Girdle of Melian was lost their evil began to spread into the unprotected forests of Doriath.

'After the final destruction of Doriath when the sons of Fëanor assaulted Menegroth that mid-winter's eve and killed my brother's daughter, Nimloth, along with her husband Dior Eluchil, son of Beren and Lúthien, Thranduil and I were among those that protected the orphaned Elwing as she fled with the Silmaril to the mouth of the River Sirion by the sea. The forest paths from the cave to the southern borders had grown dangerous and in our haste to evade the swords of our Noldorin kin we ventured too near a nest that had infested the eastern woods. We destroyed every last one of those creatures, but not before one of our party had been injured by them.

'He had been wounded during the fight in Menegroth and was targeted by several of the spiders, with one of them succeeding in piercing him with its stinger and injecting a poison into his body. We feared that the toxin had proven fatal, for he became cold and still as though sudden death had befallen him; however, within several hours he awakened like a child after a lengthy slumber. I believe Thranduil must have suffered a similar injury, for the light of the Eldar continues to surround him, although I do not understand why he has not yet roused from this state.'

'The answer lies here,' Elrond said grimly, and unsheathing the knife that hung from his belt, he lifted one of the stinger's ends out of the bowl, explaining, 'the other end was clearly broken when a strong force shattered its connection to the spider's body – '

'My father was using his dagger to stab at the spider when I arrived,' Legolas interjected.

Elrond nodded. 'His aim was true,' he observed, 'but the force of his blow not only broke off this piece, but shifted the part that was embedded within his body. Look closely and you will see at this end where the tip shows a fragment has splintered away. That piece must still be buried within Thranduil's wound and he will not awaken until it is removed.'

'Then I shall leave you to that task,' Celeborn declared, 'for my best skills lie not in healing. I will take a company to ensure that the nest near Amon Lanc has been destroyed.' Looking towards Legolas, the silver-haired Elf-lord said gently, 'be of brave heart, son of Thranduil. Your father is strong in both mind, body and spirit; and there are none so skilled in healing as Master Elrond. Now farewell to you both, and may the starlight be shining brightly in our dear friend's eyes when next we meet.'

And with a final bow Celeborn departed, leaving behind a solemn silence as Elrond and Legolas turned with grave expressions to where Thranduil lay in his deathlike stillness.

* * *

 _ **A/N**_ Poor Legolas just wants his dad to wake up. Am I being too cruel? And I still can't believe I actually wrote Thranduil getting hurt! Bad Sarah! Until next time stay safe, and thanks again for reading. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 **Forest Path near Greenwood**

"The rain lasted for four days; so when they came to the entrance to the Vales, between Lórien and Amon Lanc, Isildur turned away from the Anduin, swollen with swift water, and went up the steep slopes on its eastern side to gain the ancient paths of the Silvan Elves that ran near the eaves of the Forest...To their right the Forest loomed above them at the top of steep slopes running down to their path, below which the descent in the valley-bottom was gentler." _Unfinished Tales, Part 3: The Third Age – Disaster of the Gladden Fields_

 **Boats of Lórien**

 _The following quotes come from LOTR, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 6 – Farewell to Lórien_

"On the bank of the Silverlode … there was a hythe of white stones and white wood. By it were moored many boats and barges. Some were brightly painted, and shone with silver and gold and green, but most were either white or grey."

"These boats are light-built, and they are crafty and unlike the boats of other folk. They will not sink, lade them as you will; but they are wayward if mishandled."

 _ **Lembas**_

"And she gave him store of _lembas_ , the waybread of the Elves, wrapped in leaves of silver, and the threads that bound it were sealed at knots with the seal of the Queen … for according to the customs of the Eldalië [Eldar] the keeping and giving of _lembas_ belonged to the Queen alone." _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 21 – Of Túrin Turambar_

Although the above quote states it is the Queen's role to distribute _lembas_ , I thought given Amroth wasn't married to Nimrodel and as Galadriel would most likely have been the highest ranking of Elven women in Lórien at the time she would have assumed the responsibility for the "keeping and giving of _lembas_ ".

 **Poisoned wounds**

In _LOTR – Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age: The Great Years 3018_ it gives the date of 6 October when Frodo receives the poisoned wound from the morgul blade. He does not cross the Ford of Bruinen until the 20th which means he held out against the poison for 14 days.

Celebrían, Elrond's wife, in _LOTR – Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers, (I) The Númenorean Kings, (iii) Eriador, Arnor, & the Heirs of Isildur, _is stated to have been "waylaid in the Redhorn Pass" by Orcs and having been "seized and carried off" was said to have received "a poisoned wound". The passage then goes on to say that "She was brought back to Imladris" where she was "healed in body by Elrond". Assuming that she was found by her sons close to where she was captured and then taken directly to Imladris, that's a distance of about 170 miles she endured with the poison inside of her before she was healed, at least in body.

Given the two examples above I felt that Thranduil could survive the spider's poison in the time it took for Elrond to reach him.


	6. Affliction of the Mind

**AUTHOR NOTE:** My thanks to all you lovely readers who are continuing to read my story, and to those who have added it (or myself) to your favourites list. This chapter is dedicated to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** and **AndurilofTolkien** for their wonderful endorphin-releasing reviews! Seriously, I don't need chocolate after reading them! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 6 – Affliction of the Mind**_

Having knelt down beside the Elvenking's body and ensuring that he had all he would need to carry out his task, Elrond spared a brief glance towards Legolas who stood hesitantly opposite him.

'Be seated, Legolas,' he urged kindly, 'for finding the poisoned fragment may prove a lengthy endeavor; and, as familial bonds are strongest, take hold of your father's hand and do not release it as I reopen and search his wound, for I fear I will not be able to avoid inflicting pain upon him, but your presence should bring him some measure of comfort.'

His young face pale but determined, Legolas promptly obeyed Elrond's instructions; and having clasped his father's hand between his own, he fixed his gaze upon Thranduil's face and did not once look away during the long hours that followed.

O * O

It was in the small hours of the next morning, when the darkness of night began to fade and the faint glow of the approaching dawn gradually spread across the eastern sky, that a relieved sigh escaped Elrond's lips and his voice announced, 'the splinter is now removed, Legolas. I regret the time it has taken, however the fragment lay deeply concealed.'

Turning his head, the Elf-prince of Eryn Galen looked to where Elrond was cleansing the wound thoroughly with hot water and, his voice filled with hope, he asked, 'shall he soon awaken?'

'Of this I know not,' Elrond replied. 'The effects of the poison may last for several more hours, or they may wear off completely ere the sun has fully risen. However, now that the cause of his unconscious state has been removed, it is these other wounds that cause me greater concern – for they have infected your father with a very different toxin.

'When first I began to learn the art of healing in Lindon, there were many who survived the fall of Doriath that told of the evil that spread from Ered Gorgoroth. In those tales were mentions of the waters that became defiled and perilous to drink, for they filled the drinker's heart with shadows of madness and despair. Such contamination of the waters was the result of Ungoliant's foul offspring lurking within those areas, filling them with their malevolent aura, and issuing forth from their bodies vile excretions that over time would lay a deadly film over their legs and claws. When the spider's claws cut into your father's flesh, the filth that covered them would have been spread throughout the wounds and absorbed into his body. Now a dark cloud lies heavy about his mind and I fear a terrible torment afflicts his spirit.

'Dealing with injuries sustained in the spirit realm are the most difficult to heal and they can leave scars more deep than any inflicted by a physical weapon. Alas, until he awakens we cannot know for certain how badly the spider's poison has affected him; however, I will seek to eradicate the shadows that linger.'

His expression revealing the depths of his concern, Legolas tightened his grip around his father's hand and begged, 'is there aught I may do to assist? Name the most difficult task, e'en should it surpass the quest assigned unto Beren in fetching a Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Morgoth's stronghold, and I shall do it.'

A small smile suddenly broke the worried lines on Elrond's face, and he favoured the younger Elf with a look of particular affection as he replied, 'I have no doubt that you would for the sake of your father, Legolas; but, had such a task been required, I would never dare send you forth to undertake it, for the wrath of your father when he discovered my action would never be appeased and I should live in dread of what manner of retribution he would serve upon me.'

'Then how may I help?' Legolas asked.

'Let him hear your voice,' Elrond said. 'Your father shall need something that deeply connects him to the physical world, a sound to help guide his mind through the dark shadows, and your voice will hold the greatest power to lead him.'

Legolas nodded. Then, as Elrond commenced preparing a new mixture of leaves that quickly filled the tent with a fresh fragrance that rejuvenated the air and refreshed their own spirits, he turned back to gaze down at Thranduil's face. After a brief pause he began to sing; his fair voice clear and sweet as he sang the old lullaby his father had sung to him many centuries ago.

Sleep, my dear one, and shed not a tear.

No harm shall befall you whilst your father is near.

Warm arms shall enfold you, for your mother is nigh.

So sleep, my dear one, and do not cry.

In your repose there is naught to fear;

'tis just the wind in the trees that you hear.

May the stars shine brightly upon your rest,

as you lie there safe at your mother's breast.

Sleep, my darling, for night is now falling.

Heed not the sound of the watchmen calling.

Fear not, too, the waves on the shore,

nor the leaves that brush gently against the door.

But lo! In your slumber, sound and deep,

what makes you smile sweetly as you sleep?

My child, what visions fill you with such delight?

What dreams have made your face so bright?

Is it majestic birds flying on beautiful wings?

Or is it the fair Lúthien as she sings?

O, that I could behold what loveliness you see,

as you serenely slumber here beside me.

The night is silent and the forest is sleeping,

but I, my watchful vigil, will always be keeping.

So rest, dearest child, and have no fear.

No terror shall hurt you, for I am here.

The song, like all Elvish lullabies, was sung quite slowly and a significant amount of time had passed before Legolas' soft voice faded on the last note. A single tear could be seen glistening on his cheek, and with a small sigh he brushed a gentle hand over his father's hair.

'You sang that to me every night until the day Mother was taken from us,' he said quietly. 'You have never sung it again, nor any other song except when I begged you to sing the hymn to Elbereth for her, and, though I understand the sorrow the words must bring you, I cannot deny that there have been many times when I have longed to hear you sing this lullaby once more.'

A strange sound, like that of a muffled groan, suddenly brought Legolas' words to a halt. The noise was swiftly followed by the tiniest movement of Thranduil's head.

'Father?' His expression one of hopeful eagerness, Legolas leaned forward and touched his parent lightly on the arm. 'Father, it is I, Legolas. Are you –?'

 _Smack!_

With extreme violence the Elvenking had suddenly turned onto his side, his arm lashing out and striking his son harshly in the face.

His eyes widening in shock, Legolas felt the hope drain from him as he looked down at his father's thrashing form. But of greater concern to him were the senseless mutterings issuing forth from his father's mouth.

'Deceivers! The darkest light, it flies to the shadows and there it sits in waiting; burning, ever burning. In their holes they scurry to hide what cannot be known. All invited but none required. Beware the flames that freeze! The mountains fall unseen while yet the stars dance to their death.'

'Thranduil! Son of Oropher, hear me!' Elrond's commanding voice accompanied his swift reappearance at Legolas' side. Reaching out with both hands he grasped Thranduil's arms and firmly held them down as he began a soothing chant.

'Valour diminished, the bloodless…shall rise.' Thranduil's strange ramblings slowly began to lessen as Elrond's calming tones eased his afflicted mind. 'Nine of dark…and nine…of light. Entombed in stone…a…watchful…silence…keep….'

His words dying away as a peaceful stillness came over his face, Thranduil fell into a deep enchanted sleep.

Slowly moving one of his hands to lay it over his friend's brow, Elrond bowed his head and whispered, 'O Elbereth, may your light pierce the darkness that lingers over his spirit and cleanse his heart of despair. Let not the visions he has seen smother all hope within him. Give him blessed rest, and grant that he may awaken fully restored in mind and body.'

Observing the rhythmic rise and fall of his father's chest as he lay sleeping upon the ground, Legolas sighed in relief. Then turning to the Elf-lord beside him, he asked hesitantly, 'Master Elrond, do you know what caused his violent reaction to my voice? And what meaning lies within his words?'

A frown marring his ageless skin, Elrond looked down into Legolas' troubled blue eyes. 'It was not the sound of your voice that elicited such violence from him,' he said kindly, as he carefully turned Thranduil's body so his back was once more exposed. 'Indeed, he would not have awakened so quickly had not your voice called to him and guided his return. It is as I feared, his reason and sense of self have been tainted by the poison. It was madness that led him to strike you. As for the meaning within his words, this I know not, but can merely guess; however, such conjecture could prove dangerous should a mind become consumed by thoughts of them.'

Standing up to fetch the bowl of medicinal herbs he had prepared, Elrond returned and began to apply the fragrant mixture to Thranduil's wounds.

'But if the words he spoke were without conscious thought then what wisdom would they contain?'

At Legolas' words Elrond's ministrations did not cease, although an expression of certain grimness spread across his face. 'Those who are afflicted in the mind do not always speak nonsense, Legolas,' he said solemnly. 'Unshielded and unrestrained their minds can become overwhelmed with knowledge, and they may see visions that foretell the future or are mere images of events that have passed. To an unaffected mind the truth behind such visions is not easily discerned, even by the most learned of our people. In one whose mind is afflicted they would create a state of greater confusion, so when they speak of what they have seen it becomes intermingled with their muddled speech, making it almost impossible to judge what is madness and what is truth.'

A silent pause then fell as Legolas watched Elrond attend to the last wound on Thranduil's back. After finishing his task, Elrond rose gracefully to his feet and moved away to wash his hands. Outside the tent could be heard the lilt of beautiful voices as the Greenwood Elves sang their petition for the healing of their king.

'When my mother and I were attacked by Orcs I had never before felt such terror.'

At the sound of the soft voice, Elrond glanced over to where Legolas remained seated upon the ground and felt compassion warm his heart, for the Prince of Eryn Galen bore the appearance of a very young and frightened child as he gazed down upon his father.

'Afterward, as my father held me in his arms, I truly believed that I would never again have to experience such an overwhelming fear; but when I saw that creature upon him that dread filled my heart once more, and still it continues to linger at the thought that although he may be healed in body, his mind may be ever after afflicted.'

Swiftly bathing his hands in the bowl of water, Elrond dried them thoroughly before returning to kneel down at Legolas' side.

'I have seen three ages in the West of this world,' he said quietly, 'and have known many leaders from both the Eldar and the race of Men. Your father, King Thranduil, is among those I would consider to be truly worthy of his position. He is not easily deceived, nor is he foolish. When it is sought, his counsel bears the weight of much contemplation and he is vigilant in the care of his people. But, of all the qualities he possesses, it is his strong will and stubbornness that will aid him to defeat the darkness now clouding his mind. I rarely have encountered anyone who could match your father in staunchly holding firm against opposing arguments, even when he is greatly outnumbered. Cold steel would be more pliant than his conviction once he has made his decision in a matter. That is why you must not give up hope, Legolas. Thranduil would fight to the death to protect you from any harm or distress, so you may be assured that at this moment he is battling the dark forces that seek to overwhelm his mind as fiercely as the legends say Glorfindel battled the Balrog in Cirith Thoronath.'

At these words a true smile curved Legolas' lips for the briefest moment. 'Your words bring the comfort of truth, Master Elrond. I see my father's tenacious disposition is well known to you.'

'Since the time I was a small child,' Elrond admitted. Upon seeing Legolas' startled expression he asked, 'has your father never told you of the time he caught my brother and I in the midst of our earliest great adventure?'

'Nay, he has not.'

Casting a glance of warm affection at the unconscious Elvenking, the Master of Imladris smiled. 'He was always one to honour his word,' he murmured, 'but I had not expected him to take the demand of such a childish oath seriously. Come, there is naught else I can do for your father at this present moment, so I will tell you the story, Legolas.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ The lullaby was heavily influenced by several Welsh and English ones. I hope you liked it, and the chapter. :) Thanks again for reading, and until next week, keep safe and take care.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Madness caused by the spiders**_

"Far to the north befell the strife of Morgoth and Ungoliant; but the great cry of Morgoth echoed through Beleriand, and all its people shrank for fear; for though they knew not what it foreboded, they heard then the herald of death. Soon afterwards Ungoliant fled from the north and came into the realm of King Thingol, and a terror of darkness was about her; but by the power of Melian she was stayed, and entered not into Neldoreth, but abode long time under the shadow of the precipices in which Dorthonion fell southward. And they became known as Ered Gorgoroth … and none dared go thither, or pass nigh them; there life and light were strangled, and there all waters were poisoned." _The Silmarillion,_ _Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 10 – Of the Sindar_

"Ungoliant had fled the whips of the Balrogs, and there she dwelt a while, filling the ravines with her deadly gloom, and there still, when she had passed away, her foul offspring lurked and wove their evil nets; and the thin waters that spilled from Ered Gorgoroth were defiled, and perilous to drink, for the hearts of those that tasted them were filled with shadows of madness and despair." _The Silmarillion,_ _Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 14 – Of Beleriand and its Realms_

 _ **Glorfindel & The Balrog**_

This is mentioned in _The Silmarillion,_ _Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 23 – Of Tuor & the Fall of Gondolin._ Glorfindel fought and defeated the Balrog, but sadly died as well. Although, as we all know, his spirit was re-embodied after only a short period of time due to his actions in life, and he returned to Middle-earth.


	7. Of Twins & an Elf-lord's Promise

**AUTHOR NOTE:** "Great elephants!" as Gandalf would say. I checked the stats today and discovered my story is now being read in over 20 countries! My deepest thanks to all of you who are still reading it, and for their reviews of the last chapter I dedicate this one to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** and **PegasusWingsVW**. To be told how much you're enjoying my work is the best reward, and I certainly hope you like this next instalment. :)

* * *

 _ **Part 7 – Of Twins & an Elf-lord's Promise**_

The golden light of the lamps created a comforting glow inside the tent as the rising sun shone against the silken drapes and turned their hue to the deep green of the finest emeralds, while Elrond's clear voice grew soft as deep memories stirred when he began his tale.

'My sire Eärendil ever longed to travel the wide Sea, and when my brother and I were scarce more than two years in the age of men he departed in his ship Vingilot once more. The Elves of Sirion, being ever faithful to their oath to protect our mother and her children, were attentive in their care of us; most especially the two that had led her safely out of the ruins of Doriath – the Lords Celeborn and Thranduil.

'Several years passed before my brother and I, in the manner of all children, sought to have our own adventure. At the brave and wise age of five we departed from our home by the Mouths of Sirion in the early morning light and set forth on our journey, leaving no message for our poor mother as the young are wont to do.'

'Not if you have _my_ sire as your father,' Legolas interjected. 'Knowing he would gaze at you with a look of such disappointment you would never dare commit such an oversight.'

Elrond's eyes twinkled with sudden mirth, though his voice was quite solemn as he agreed, saying, 'indeed, it was therefore fortunate for Elros and myself that he was not our sire.' Then returning to his narrative he continued, 'our first desire was to seek the highest place on the shoreline, for we wished to discover if we could look across the great Sea and find the Enchanted Isles. Clad in cloak and tunic we searched along the sands for many hours until we reached the ruins of an old watchtower. The fine stone walls were cracked and crumbling, however the stairwell remained intact. Having ascended the stairs to the top we took heed not to approach the edge as the parapet had collapsed, but stood and gazed out towards the glistening waters. Although the beauty that met our eyes awed our young minds, we were naturally disappointed in our desire to see the Enchanted Isles.

'We then consumed some of the food we had brought away with us, unaware we were leaving behind remnants of our meal that would betray our presence to a certain sharp-eyed Elf-lord.'

Halting briefly in his story as the said Elf-lord suddenly released a groan of pain and shifted, Elrond leaned forward to check the dressings on Thranduil's wounds before placing his hand over the Elvenking's brow and whispering a gentle flow of words. Upon observing Legolas' concerned expression when he finished, he said reassuringly, 'all is well. Unsurprisingly, his mind is fighting against the sleep enchantment and he momentarily became aware of his injuries.'

Accepting the words of comfort, Legolas relaxed once more – though his fingers did tighten their grip around his father's hand as he asked curiously, 'did my father find you soon after you left the watchtower?'

'To our immense disappointment we never reached our next destination before we were discovered,' Elrond admitted. 'We hoped to reach Nimbrethil, where grew the finest birch trees in all West Beleriand, although we were unaware that for us at the time it would have been a journey of many weary days. Evening was falling when we came to a magnificent oak tree that grew upon a high hill in a wide field of scrubland, and to our adventurous spirits its thick labyrinth of branches appeared the perfect place to find rest. We had each found a comfortable position in the topmost boughs where we might admire the bright stars in the sky, when a familiar fair voice hailed us from below.'

A reminiscent smile curved Elrond's lips as he paused at the memory. 'We had believed no one could follow our trail, so our dismay was overwhelming when we heard your father's call,' he said. Then, as he proceeded to tell a captivated Legolas the rest of the story, the memory of it played before his eyes as clearly as though an Elf-minstrel had created the images with their song.

' _Good evening and well met, little masters!'_

 _The merry greeting startled both Elrond and Elros from their positions in the oak tree, and gazing down at the ground far below, they beheld in the fading twilight the familiar kind face of Lord Thranduil as he stood beneath the tree, his fine blue cloak fluttering about him and his shining long golden hair blowing gently in the warm summer breeze._

' _Hullo, Master Elf,' they called back hesitantly before shrinking backwards into the dark shadows cast by the leaves._

' _Do you think he recognised us?' Elros whispered to his twin._

 _Elrond considered the question for a moment, the pensive frown creasing his brow lending his young face a quaint expression of wisdom. 'I do not know,' he eventually replied with perfect honesty. 'Perhaps he did not see us very clearly.'_

 _At Elrond's words a light sound of amusement drifted up to them from below. Peering downward again they saw Thranduil's keen blue eyes staring straight in their direction._

' _Regretfully I must disappoint your hopes and declare full knowledge of your identities,' Thranduil informed them with a smile. 'Now what, pray tell, brings you intrepid children hither to this place?'_

 _Tilting his chin proudly Elrond declared, 'we're off on an adventure!'_

' _Indeed.' Thranduil sounded suitably impressed. 'Undoubtedly a most worthy and admirable endeavour. However, does your mother know you have wandered so far from home?'_

 _The question, gently asked, had both boys biting their bottom lip in consternation._

' _We forgot to leave a message for her,' Elros finally confessed._

' _Quite a serious oversight,' Thranduil remarked gravely. 'She is most likely wondering what has become of you.'_

 _The twin sons of Eärendil shared identical guilty expressions._

' _We did not mean to forget,' Elrond said, his grey eyes contrite. 'An' we're sorry, but we do want to travel like Father does. Could you tell our mother that she mustn't worry, Lord Thranduil?'_

' _The birds of the air shall perform the task much more swiftly than I,' Thranduil said with a smile, and calling upon a nightingale as it sang in a nearby thicket he politely requested its assistance._

 _Their delighted eyes fixed upon the sight of the tall Elf with the tiny bird resting upon his long slender hand, Elrond and Elros listened as Thranduil imparted their message for their mother not to concern herself over their safety to the attentive creature. Then, to their surprise, and slight apprehension, they heard him finish with: 'and then please be so kind as to find and inform Lord Celeborn that I have found our missing younglings. Have him tell the Lady Elwing that I have them quite safe and shall see to their wellbeing.'_

 _The nightingale gave a short beautiful trill and took flight in the direction of the Havens as Elrond asked, 'did both you and Lord Celeborn know we had left home?'_

 _Thranduil nodded._

' _We did,' he answered simply. 'Word reached Lord Celeborn that you had not been seen since the early morn when you were observed walking towards the shores. By chance I happened upon him not long after he heard this news. I assumed the responsibility of searching the western areas whilst he checked the east. After discovering the traces of your meal in the old watchtower I simply tracked you to this place.'_

' _Ai!' Elros muttered worriedly. 'You have come to make us go home, but we shan't go!'_

' _Nay, little one, I possess not the authority to compel you to return,' Thranduil reassured him. 'However, I cannot in good conscience leave you here unprotected, therefore I shall accompany you on this wondrous adventure.'_

' _But we shall be travelling far away,' Elrond protested. 'And we will be safe, Lord Thranduil. See, we have brought our swords.'_

 _Twin glints of silver steel flashed in the shadows as two small elven blades were drawn from their scabbards and held out as proof._

' _A fearsome sight to any who would dare approach you with dark intent,' Thranduil said with a smile. 'Still, I am resolved to remain with you.'_

' _What of Lady Elwen?' Elros asked curiously. 'Will she not miss you?'_

 _His blue eyes softening even further at the name of his beloved wife, Thranduil replied truthfully, 'she shall understand why I chose to accompany you, and perhaps she and your mother will be company for each other in their loneliness.'_

' _Why should they be lonely?'_

 _Elrond's young voice sounded uncertain as he voiced the question, and Thranduil's tone was extremely gentle as he said in answer, 'they would be lonely as the ones whom they love most dearly are not with them.'_

' _Oh.'_

 _A troubled silence descended upon Elrond and Elros as they considered this thought until a strong gust of wind distracted them. Heavy with the scent of imminent rain, the breeze rustled the leaves on the tree as dark clouds gathered in the sky and covered the light of the moon and stars._

 _Movement from below had the twins gazing down to see Thranduil's lithe figure nimbly leap up into the lower boughs of the tree. Then moving with swift grace, Thranduil made his way to where they sat in a wide juncture of the tree's thick trunk._

 _Backing away from him to press their backs tightly against the bark of the tree, Elros and Elrond stared up at Thranduil's tall form suspiciously as he walked lightly along a branch towards them. Upon observing their wary expressions the golden haired Elf laughed merrily._

' _Come now, my small ones,' he said, 'I did not climb up to remove thee by force. There is rain approaching and your small cloaks will offer little protection against its chill.' Gracefully lowering himself until he knelt perfectly balanced upon the branch, Thranduil removed his long cloak and draped it over the twins, saying, 'ensure you keep it secure about you, for the wind is growing colder.'_

 _Their young faces relaxing as they snuggled beneath the cloak's comforting warmth, Elrond and Elros took a moment to appreciate the protective covering before they gazed with concern at their benefactor._

' _Won't you be cold, Lord Thranduil?' Elrond asked, as the first raindrops began to patter against the leaves._

' _The chill of a storm is easily endured when one does not feel the effects of it.'_

' _I think that means no,' Elros murmured wisely to his brother._

' _But you'll still get wet,' Elrond pointed out. Then indicating the vacant space still available next to him, he offered kindly, 'you could sit beside us.'_

' _Yes,' Elros agreed happily, 'and you could tell us another story. You and Lord Celeborn always have the best ones.'_

 _Thranduil silently considered the suggestion for a moment before accepting with an amused smile. 'And what would you have me tell you about,' he asked as he settled his tall figure beside Elrond. 'Perhaps the time your mother's great grandmother, Queen Melian, and her nightingales arranged the meeting between myself and the Lady Elwen; or would you prefer to hear another tale of the valiant deeds of your great grandparents, Lúthien and Beren?'_

' _Please tell us of Lúthien again,' Elros pleaded. 'All the other Elves who saw her have said she was the most beautiful lady.'_

' _She was very fair,' Thranduil said truthfully, 'and her beauty was not just in her outer appearance. She possessed a kind and courageous heart that won her the admiration and loyalty of many. When she sang all who listened were charmed by her voice – even the dark mind of Morgoth was not immune to its enchanting spell.'_

' _She cannot have been as pretty as our mother,' Elrond declared with all the fervour of the very young. 'I believe Mother is the loveliest lady to ever live. Who would you say is the fairest, Lord Thranduil?'_

' _I fear I must disappoint you both and declare that for myself no lady can surpass my dear Elwen,' he said, his blue eyes twinkling. 'There are many qualities that make someone or something beautiful, but in determining the ideal of beauty this must fall to each individual's own heart. My Lady shall therefore ever be in my eyes the loveliest being in all this world, no matter how many ages may pass.'_

 _A brief quiet moment descended as the twins contemplated the Elf-lord's words, and in the silence the sound of the gently falling rain created a sense of peaceful isolation._

 _Finally glancing up to look at the Elf beside him, Elrond saw him gazing up at the dark cloud-covered sky through the thick layer of leaves, and the soft drops of rain that made it through their delicate cover glistened as they fell upon his face. The expression on Thranduil's face was serene, as though his thoughts filled him with calm contentment._

' _Mother calls us her beautiful boys.'_

 _At Elros' wistful remark both Thranduil and Elrond turned to look at him. Huddled beneath Thranduil's cloak all of Elros' previous excitement for an adventure had disappeared, and the half-Elven child looked extremely young as he peered out into the night._

' _And in her eyes there would be no one more fair than her sons,' Thranduil reflected quietly. 'I have seen her expression as she has looked upon you and there is no doubt she loves you greatly.'_

 _His eyes troubled, Elros turned towards Thranduil. 'You said she would be lonely because we went away. I-Is that true? Will our leaving make her sad?'_

' _There is not a mother who would not be grieved to be parted from her children,' Thranduil answered gently, 'and your mother's sorrow must surely be increased as she is also separated from her husband.'_

 _A silence descended upon the three once more as Thranduil allowed his words to linger in the minds of the twins. Thus it was not long before the images he had evoked brought about the expected result._

' _I don't want to go on an adventure if it makes Mother cry,' Elros decided._

 _Elrond nodded slowly. 'She would be very unhappy without us,' he said._

' _Do you think we should tell her about wanting to go?'_

 _Pondering over his brother's question Elrond finally shook his head. 'She might be unhappy that we wanted to leave,' he replied. Then turning to Thranduil who had silently listened to the dialogue between the brothers, Elrond said insistently, 'Lord Thranduil, you won't tell her anything will you?'_

' _I will not.'_

' _Do you swear?'_

 _His expression quite serious, Thranduil gave his solemn promise. 'Upon my honour I swear to never reveal the truth of this day's events to anyone.'_

 _Reassured that their mother would be spared the pain of knowing they had considered leaving her behind, Elrond and Elros relaxed against the tree. Then, as the long day finally caught up with their small bodies, the boys' young faces crinkled as a wide yawn escaped them both._

' _Come, the hour is growing late and all children need their rest,' Thranduil said, and lifting Elrond from where he sat, he moved across so that he now had a twin pressed against each side. 'When the dawn has come we shall return home. But for now, close your eyes, little ones, and sleep. And to ensure only the most pleasant of dreams shall visit you, I will tell you of the time Lúthien sang in the great halls of her father, Elu Thingol, and made the loveliest of flowers bloom upon the solid rock beneath her feet.'_

'The last memory I have of that night is of your father's soft voice lulling my brother and I to sleep, whilst the rain fell gently around us. I have no doubt he would have remained with us for as long as it took until we came to the decision to return home, even had it taken several months,' Elrond said, his eyes blinking away the visions of the past to focus once more on the sight of Thranduil lying upon the ground.

'But he succeeded in his intention of convincing us to return,' he continued, 'though he did not once suggest it, nor did he coerce us. By his words alone he delicately wove such a sorrowful picture of our mother that it was enough to make us realise how much we would hurt her by leaving. As I grew older I came to realise the wisdom of what he had done. By only reminding us of who we would be leaving behind, he made us remember how important she was to us; and granted us the choice of freely making the decision to return our own.'

Gazing down at his father, Legolas said fondly, 'he is ever doing that with our people when they seek his guidance on private matters. He does not tell them what to do, but rather mentions important things that they have forgotten and then allows them to make the choice. I thank you for sharing your story with me, Master Elrond, and let us hope my father heard it too and will be reminded of those whom he loves so he will soon return to us.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I hope you all liked young Elrond and Elros. On a different note, with Christmas just around the corner if you're starting off on holidays soon please travel safely, and may you have a lovely time with your friends and family.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Elf-minstrels**_

"…he halted amazed, thinking that he had strayed into a dream, or else that he had received the gift of the Elf-minstrels, who can make the things of which they sing appear before the eyes of those that listen." _LOTR, Appendix A (v) Here Follows A Part of the Tale of Aragorn & Arwen_

 _ **Fall of Doriath, the Story of Elrond's Earliest Adventure and Sindar in Lindon**_

Just a quick warning, Tolkien did change his mind frequently about dates of certain events, so although some quotes contradict what I may put in my story, there are others that also support my view. Naturally, I went with the ones that help me! :)

In _The War of the Jewels, Part 3 – The Wanderings of Húrin & Other Writings Not Forming Part of the Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 5 – The Tale of Years_, the date given for the second kinslaying (the death of Dior and Nimloth) and the final fall of Doriath is 509 of the First Age. The date for the birth of Elros and Elrond is 532, whilst the voyages of Eärendil are said to begin in 525 (later changed by Tolkien to 530 and 534). The third and last kinslaying (where the twins were captured and the Havens of Sirion destroyed) was 538, making them 6 years old. The end of the first age is noted as being 590 (Tolkien changed the date from 600).

From the same source, it states that the younger brother to Elwë (Thingol), being Elmo, had a son called Galadhon who in turn had two sons, Celeborn and Galathil. Galathil had a daughter, Nimloth who was wife to Dior Eluchil. Their daughter was Elwing. This would therefore make Elrond the great great nephew of Celeborn, his cousin however many times removed, along with eventually being his son-in-law. (Just in case you were wondering about the family relationship!)

With regard to Celeborn and Thranduil aiding Elwing's escape from Doriath, in _Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, IV The History of Galadriel & Celeborn,_ it says that "it is a natural assumption that Celeborn and Galadriel were present at the ruin of Doriath (it is said in one place that Celeborn 'escaped the sack of Doriath'), and perhaps aided the escape of Elwing to the Havens of Sirion with the Silmaril…." I decided to go with Christopher Tolkien on this one and added Thranduil into the assumption. I also took the liberty of having Thranduil remain in the Havens until they were sacked by the Sons of Fëanor, which is how he knew little Elrond. :) This quote of course goes against what Galadriel says in LOTR when she says of herself and Celeborn that "before the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the mountains, and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat." It was suggested in the same source mentioned above (Unfinished Tales) that Tolkien wrote this when he still had Celeborn as one of the Nandorin Elves (the ones that never crossed the Misty Mountains on the great journey) and that Galadriel met him in his own land of Lórien. Tolkien then changed his mind and made Celeborn a Sindarin Prince and kinsman of Thingol.

In _LOTR, Appendix B – The Tale of Years: The Second Age,_ Tolkien states that: "In the beginning of this age many of the High Elves still remained [in Middle-earth]. Most of these dwelt in Lindon west of the Ered Luin; but before the building of the Barad-dûr many of the Sindar passed eastward, and some established realms in the forests far away … Thranduil, king in the north of Greenwood the Great, was one of these." From the same source in the timeline, Tolkien gives the date of the foundation of Lindon as Year 1 and the building of Barad-dûr by Sauron as Year 1000. He also states in Year 40: "Many Dwarves leaving their old cities in Ered Luin go to Moria to swell its numbers".

When cross-referenced with the quote from _Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, IV The History of Galadriel & Celeborn_ that states: "In the Second Age their king, Oropher [the father of Thranduil] had withdrawn northward … to be free from the power and encroachments of the Dwarves of Moria, which had grown to be greatest of the mansions of the Dwarves", it seems reasonable to conclude that the Sindar and other Elves of Doriath dwelt in Lindon, if only for a brief period of time, despite the same source later stating that in another essay by Tolkien he wrote in relation to Oropher coming among the Silvan folk: "[he] had come among them with only a handful of Sindar…they came from Doriath after its ruin, and had no desire to leave Middle-earth, nor to be merged with the other Sindar of Beleriand, dominated by the Noldorin Exiles for whom the folk of Doriath had no great love." This last source also contradicts a late reference in _The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Part 1, Chapter 6 – The Tale of Years of the Second Age_ where it says that in some of his later writing Tolkien noted the establishment of realms in the woodlands by "remnants of the Telerian Elves (of Doriath in ancient Beleriand)… the chief of these were Thranduil…[and] Celeborn" in SA 750.

Incidentally, most of the above quotes are also why I believe Thranduil to be older than Elrond, since although Tolkien later changed his mind about who the Elvenking of Greenwood was at the beginning of the SA, it is clear that in _The Silmarillion_ (his earliest work as stated by Christopher Tolkien) and the original vague undated mention in LOTR it was Thranduil who was one of the Sindar who departed Lindon and was taken as king by the Silvan Elves in Greenwood (also explained in the notes of my other story _Bonds of Friendship_ ).

The absence of Eärendil in Elrond's story is explained in _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 24 – Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath_ , where it says that after marrying Elwing and the birth of his sons Elrond and Elros, Eärendil "could not rest, and his voyages about the shores of the Hither Lands eased not his unquiet. Two purposes grew in his heart…he sought to sail thereon, seeking Tuor and Idril (his parents) who returned not; and he thought to find perhaps the last shore…." The source later goes on to say that "Elwing was not with him, and she sat in sorrow by the mouths of Sirion."

With the presence of Celeborn and Thranduil in the Havens, I thought this would make sense given that when describing the third and cruellest of the kinslaying Tolkien wrote: "For the sons of Fëanor that yet lived came down suddenly upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath, and destroyed them….Too late the ships of Círdan and Gil-galad the High King came hasting to the aid of the Elves of Sirion…then such few of that people as did not perish in the assault joined themselves to Gil-galad, and went with him to Balar [an isle of refuge]."

From Balar it would appear Gil-galad would have taken them to Lindon. In _The History of Middle-earth, The Peoples of Middle-earth, Part 1, Chapter 2 – The Appendix on Languages_ it says that: "In the fall of the Dark Power and the end of the First Age most of Beleriand was overwhelmed by the waters, or burned with fire. Then a great part of its folk went west over Sea…yet many still lingered in Middle-earth…some of the elven-peoples of Beleriand crossed the mountains of Lune (Ered Luin), and wherever they came they were received as kings and lords, because of their greater wisdom and majesty. These were for the most part Sindar; for the Exiles, highest and fairest of all speaking-peoples, held still to Lindon."

The place that Elrond mentions, Nimbrethil, is described in _The Silmarillion Index_ as: "Birch-woods in Arvernien in the south of Beleriand. Cf. Bilbo's song at Rivendell: 'He built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in…' (The Fellowship of the Ring II I)."

 _ **Nightingales of Melian**_

In _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 4 – Of Thingol & Melian_ it says in relation to Melian that: "Nightingales went always with her, and she taught them their song…she departed from Valinor and came to the Hither Lands, and there she filled the silence of Middle-earth before the dawn with her voice and the voices of her birds." I took the liberty of assuming that therefore all the Elves who lived in Doriath would have become very accustomed to interacting with nightingales and specifically chose to have one appear in this story. :)


	8. Familial Bonds

**AUTHOR NOTE:** As always I'd like to start off this chapter by thanking everyone who is continuing to read this story, and of course an extra special word of gratitude must go to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** for your review of the last chapter. I love reading your comments, and once again it's my pleasure to dedicate this chapter to you – and just in time for Christmas our dear Thranduil decided to oblige us and wake up! ;)

* * *

 _ **Part 8 – Familial Bonds**_

In a blinding blackness Thranduil fought against the shadow seeking to consume him. Mist obscured his eyes. A great weariness was seeping into his body. Burning pain scorched his back. His mind was clouded in darkness. In the distance a familiar, beloved voice was calling "Father!"

 _Father_? _Am I a father?_

A warm fire engulfed Thranduil's heart at the thought and a fleeting vision of fair hair and sparkling blue eyes passed through his mind. The vision had a name. A brief moment of clarity came upon him bearing the name.

 _Legolas!_

But the next instant the name and all other thoughts were swallowed by a black shadow that descended and in its depths no light shone, save a tiny spark deep inside his mind.

Time was meaningless – for there was no day or night to count its passing. The only constant was the fathomless darkness and the excruciating pain.

The spark of light shimmered and grew. Another voice. Different, and yet also familiar, called to him. Then the malevolent gloom stretched forth its hand and pulled him back into the pit.

But the dear voice from before the black darkness returned singing a sweet melody.

 _That voice. It is so familiar._ _I know that voice! It is one that I love!_

The voice summoned images of a lady with shimmering long silver hair dancing gracefully beneath a canopy of trees bathed in starlight. A tiny child soon joined her.

A sudden slash and the beautiful vision transformed into a bloody scene. Agonising lances of pain pierced Thranduil's mind as multiple images flashed through it. Scenes of horror, torment and anguish. A forest desecrated by fire; a realm of eternal darkness; countless numbers of Elves lying dead in a barren wasteland. A sense of despair so great it could consume the world arose in his heart. Valiantly he fought back; desperate to hear the voice once again.

More visions came.

A great evil was rising. Shadowy forms with cold merciless eyes. A brave few on an errand of sacrifice – among them the familiar one with fair hair. An ancient fortress befouled by malevolent magic.

But then a blessed peace. A warm glow enveloped Thranduil's mind and a light, sweet fragrance soothed his spirit. A gentle presence surrounded him like a mother's soft embrace, healing the injuries inflicted upon his mind with loving tenderness until he reposed in restful tranquillity.

A period of time then passed in quiet serenity, save for fleeting moments of pain that burned across his back. Reluctant though he was to leave the calming grace of the gentle presence, Thranduil heard the beloved voice calling to him again and longed to return to it.

Following the sound he felt relief spring to life inside his heart as the voice grew louder, the words it spoke becoming clearer.

'And you were so pleased you declared a se'nnight of feasting to celebrate my accomplishment. I know of no other father who has rejoiced so much over their child taking their first step. Eglerion never grows tired of retelling the story on its anniversary so I now can recount it by heart.'

The words awoke a memory inside Thranduil's mind; a memory radiant in its happiness and filled with loving warmth. And with the power of that joy his mind cleared completely; and the name that had long evaded him returned with all its dear association.

'Legolas. My son.'

At the whispered utterance a startled silence descended for a brief moment. Then it was shattered by a cry of pure exultation as Legolas cried out, 'Father! O Elbereth be praised! You're awake!'

Becoming aware of a soft mattress beneath him and the fact his upper body lay uncovered and exposed, Thranduil's eyelids flickered open to a dimly lit tent and the sight of Legolas' smiling face staring at him in undisguised relief.

His son's features instantly brought another, not so happy, memory to mind.

'The spiders! Legolas, are you –?'

'I am well, Father,' Legolas hastily reassured him. 'It is yourself who has caused many hearts grave concern. Pray do not move!' Reaching out as Thranduil went to turn onto his back, Legolas placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. 'Your injuries have not yet fully healed, and Master Elrond said you must remain lying as you are currently to prevent reopening them.'

The Elvenking quirked a single eyebrow in surprise as he allowed his son to push his body back to its original position. 'Elrond is here? Surely it would take him over a day to travel from Lórien to Amon Lanc.'

'We met his party on the journey and it has been a number of days since you were injured. Master Elrond placed you into a healing sleep, and Lord Celeborn has travelled to Amon Lanc and returned in the time it has taken for you to awaken from it.'

'Celeborn as well! I would not have believed a few cuts from a spider merited such concern.'

'Father, do not make a merry jest of this,' Legolas protested. 'You were grievously hurt, and had Master Elrond not found the splinter from the spider's stinger embedded in your wound you might never have recovered.'

A small sigh escaped Thranduil's lips at this revelation, and his tone was quietly remorseful as he said, 'I am sorry, dear one. I should not have made light of something that has evidently caused you great distress.'

Legolas bowed his head in acceptance of the apology. 'I was terrified I would lose you, Father,' he admitted, 'the poison in your wounds spread quickly and you could not speak any words of reassurance to me. For the first time in my memory I could not turn to you for comfort and I felt as lost as a bewildered child. Also, I fear I was not always successful in conquering my grief, and on several occasions my manner towards Master Elrond and Lord Celeborn has been quite rude these past few days.'

Unsurprised by the hint of shame in his son's voice, Thranduil told him, 'if you believe I shall reproach you for any lapse in your behaviour you are mistaken. I am familiar with the feelings you have suffered and understand how they may have affected you. It is difficult to endure seeing one you love lying hurt; therefore, your inexperience in dealing with the emotions such a sight can create is not something of which you should be ashamed – although I trust you apologised to our friends once you regained control of your emotions.'

His eyes suddenly glistening, Legolas smiled tremulously at his father.

'I did beg their pardon most humbly, Father; and with your few words you have accomplished what neither Master Elrond, nor Lord Celeborn, could do these last couple of days,' he said. 'They sought to reassure me in a similar fashion, but their words brought me little solace.'

At Legolas' words a familiar twinkle sparked to life in Thranduil's blue eyes.

'As your father I would hope you would pay more heed to my words than theirs,' he said lightly, and reaching out with his hand he gave Legolas' fair hair an affectionate tug. 'You have done well, my son. When my mind was surrounded in darkness, each time I heard your voice my heart burned inside my chest. Had it not been for you I doubt I would have found the will to return.'

Quite overcome by his father's words, Legolas turned his head to the side in an attempt to hide his tears – completely forgetting his own injury that would now be visible to the Elvenking.

Observing the faint remnant of a bruise near his son's eye, Thranduil frowned heavily. 'Who has harmed you?' he asked quietly in a suddenly dangerous tone.

A faint blush staining his cheeks Legolas attempted to dismiss the question with a calm, 'it is nothing, Father.'

However, his paternal instinct to protect his child burning inside him, Thranduil refused to drop the issue and insisted, 'Legolas, I will have the offender's name. The fading shows that you were struck violently enough for a deep bruise to be made on your skin – something that is quite difficult to do to an Elf.'

'Father, please,' Legolas pleaded, desperate to shield his parent from the truth. 'It is not important. I bear no ill-will towards them, for the blow was an accident. They were not aware of their actions when they did it.'

Realisation began to dawn in Thranduil's eyes. Horrified he stared at his only child.

'I am the one who struck you.' All anger had disappeared from his voice, leaving only pain and grief. 'O my son, I am truly sorry. Never before have I laid a violent hand upon you and now you bear a mark that I inflicted. Unassuaged shall be my regret for committing such a heinous act.'

Legolas tightly grasped his father's hand as he stated emphatically, 'Father, I do not hold you responsible for the injury, for I know that you would never intentionally hurt me. No possible blame could be attached to yourself for what happened, and the bruise shall have completely faded ere the new dawn rises on the morrow. So please, I beg you, do not apologise.'

At his son's earnest plea Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed. 'Then for your sake I shall not press the matter,' he said heavily, concealing the grief that still lingered inside of him; 'however, I would ask that you just once grant me the indulgence of hearing your words of forgiveness.'

His expression perfectly sincere, Legolas complied with the humble request.

'With all my heart I forgive you,' he said truthfully, 'and I pray that you will henceforth put this moment forever out of your mind and think not on it again. Now come, it is time to redress your wounds and if I do not have it done when Master Elrond returns he shall refuse to permit me to continue assisting him and appoint someone else.'

'Indeed,' Thranduil retorted, 'and am I allowed no say in whom I permit to attend upon my person?'

'None whatsoever,' Legolas replied impudently, a tinge of humour reappearing in his voice. 'Not whilst you are confined to this tent with your injuries still unhealed.'

Directing a glance over his shoulder at his son who was proceeding to remove the old dressings from his back, Thranduil asked drily, 'then may I dare to enquire as to which unfortunate would be granted the questionable distinction of aiding me in your place?'

'There would be no lack of volunteers, Father,' Legolas teased lightly. 'Despite your grim countenance and formidable wit, our people do seem rather fond of you.'

'Impertinent child,' Thranduil muttered, although a smile could be heard in his voice.

The sudden opening of the silken drapes at the tent's entrance forestalled Legolas' reply, as did the warm greeting that followed.

'Hail, Thranduil! King and Lord of Eryn Galen! We are relieved to behold you awake and sound of mind.'

Their faces bearing matching smiles, Elrond and Celeborn entered the tent and bowed respectfully to their fellow kinsman.

'We heard young Legolas' cry from the other side of the camp,' Celeborn continued, his eyes lit with kindly amusement. 'Although, having heard in his voice the sound of joy we did not feel it necessary to hasten hither to you and so disrupt your reunion.'

'For which courtesy I thank you,' Thranduil answered sincerely. 'And to you both I must extend my deepest gratitude for the aid you have provided, not only to myself, but to my son and my people.'

'We could not ignore so desperate a summons,' Elrond said, his keen eyes observing his friend closely for any lingering effects from the spider's poison. 'Especially when the cause of your injury was one of the darkest creatures to inhabit this world.'

'Indeed, and you are fortunate Elrond was visiting Lórien,' Celeborn remarked, his tone now quite serious. 'The effects of the foul toxins from the spawn of Ungoliant are not easily treated, save by the most skilled of healers. Had you gone much longer without his assistance I fear your mind would have been beyond all hope of healing.'

The dreadful memory of observing those who had fallen to the madness inflicted by the poisoned waters of Ered Gorgoroth immediately cast a shadow over the faces of Celeborn and Thranduil. Upon seeing this, Elrond wisely diverted their attention by stepping forward and saying, 'Thranduil, I am aware that you must be most anxious to arise from your current position; however, I do insist that you remain stationary for at least another two days. Some of the cuts to your skin were quite deep and the torn flesh is yet to mend properly.'

'I am sure I will be able to endure it,' Thranduil replied, his remark causing his three listeners to share identical expressions of disbelief, for the Elvenking's dislike of prolonged periods of indolence was extremely well-known.

And so it was that before the sun had risen the next day the Master of Imladris could be heard having a courteous battle of wills with the Elvenking of Eryn Galen – much to the entertainment of Lord Celeborn and Legolas as they approached the tent.

'Who do you believe will emerge as the victor?' Legolas enquired curiously to the silver-haired Elf beside him.

Celeborn gave the question some thought before announcing, 'whilst Elrond is correct in his statements that your father requires more rest to heal his wounds, such words will not sway Thranduil if he is truly determined to leave his bed. It would take a greater and more persuasive reason than his own well-being to convince him to remain there.'

As they reached the tent and passed through its entrance, the two Elves beheld the sight of Thranduil proudly standing upright across from Elrond. In Thranduil's right hand he grasped his staff of carven oak – although the whitened colour of his knuckles betrayed how heavily he relied upon it for support. He was dressed only in his tunic and hose.

'Father!'

Legolas hurried forward; the bowl of nourishing stew he held in his hands dropping unheeded to the ground. Elrond and Celeborn kept silent, realising that his beloved son may have more chance of persuading the tenacious Elvenking to return to his bed than any words they uttered.

'Father, you are still weary from your ordeal,' Legolas protested. 'Pray lay aside your sense of duty to our people until you are fully recovered.'

'My son, I will not lie like a newborn whilst there are tasks that need to be done,' Thranduil said sternly. 'How can I rest knowing that those foul creatures may yet be roaming freely throughout my realm.'

'If that is your only reason then it should reassure you to know that your fire destroyed many of their number in the cavern,' Celeborn interjected. 'What few remained hiding in their gloomy nests I killed with the aid of several others.'

'You see,' Legolas said to his father. 'The threat has been removed.'

'There shall be others,' came the grim response. 'The accurst things breed in secret and then spread their evil when their numbers are great.'

'All the more reason for you to take this time to heal properly,' Legolas argued respectfully. 'Lord Celeborn has confirmed that the ones lurking near Amon Lanc have been completely wiped out, so please, allow yourself these two days of rest. Any task you feel obliged to perform I shall attend to it in your place, and should you require company to pass the time I shall be here. I am sure both Lord Celeborn and Master Elrond would not hesitate to sit with you a while to discuss any important issues that trouble you.' Seeing that his father still appeared determined to finish dressing and depart from the tent, Legolas finally abandoned his logical arguments and resorted to an emotional one.

'Father, you have always said that your heart aches when I am distressed or hurt,' he said quietly. 'Do you not see that in return I feel the same when it is you who are similarly afflicted? By refusing to rest you are inflicting suffering upon yourself, and it pains me to see it. Please, listen to Master Elrond and allow your wounds time to properly heal. You often tell me that I must ensure to take care of myself, so I implore you to heed your own words and look to your own well-being. If not for your own sake, then for mine. I could not bear it should any further harm come to you.'

All was quiet inside the tent as Thranduil gazed down into his son's pleading blue eyes. Then it seemed as though a great weight pressed down on him as he sighed.

'What father could knowingly cause his child such torment,' he murmured. 'Very well, my son. I shall, by my choice, remain consigned to this bed until my wounds are sufficiently healed.'

Lowering himself onto the cot behind him, Thranduil relinquished his staff into Legolas' hands and then permitted his son and Elrond to assist him out of his tunic – the dark-haired Elf having expressed his concern that the fabric may have dislodged some of the dressings on the Elvenking's wounds.

'Some of them will need to be reapplied,' Elrond declared having finished his examination. 'I shall have another batch made ready and fetch you another bowl of stew, seeing as your last serving of breakfast met an untimely end.' Picking up the bowl that lay upon the ground, Elrond turned to Celeborn. 'Will you accompany me?'

Celeborn inclined his head. 'I believe we may safely leave our friend under the care of his attentive son,' he said, and bowing towards Thranduil and Legolas he smiled. 'Keep a watchful eye upon him, young Legolas. And I do believe I was right; it took a greater and more persuasive reason!'

Then with a final bow both he and Elrond departed the tent to the sound of Legolas successfully persuading his father to lie down and rest.

Gazing up at his father by marriage, Elrond commented, 'I take your last remark to imply that you had surmised that I would not be successful in convincing Thranduil to remain abed.'

His merry laugh ringing out loudly Celeborn declared, 'it was by no means a reflection of my belief in your abilities, my dear Elrond. I have known Thranduil since before the time our people dwelt in Doriath when he was a child. He was forever getting into mischief, but was also completely steadfast in his consideration for others – especially his family. I knew that his sense of duty and longing for occupation could only be surpassed by his love for Legolas.'

'And it was that love that would prevent him from causing his son any distress,' Elrond concluded.

'Yes. He is very proud, but for the sake of those whom he loves there is no doubt in my mind he would sacrifice that pride to protect them – even should it make him appear weak.'

After a brief pause as he contemplated these words, Elrond suddenly asked, 'do you believe him to be right about the spiders spreading across the lands?'

'I do.' Celeborn's voice mirrored the previous grimness of Thranduil's. 'In Doriath their evil was held at bay by the power of the Girdle of Melian. However, after Melian departed after the death of Elu Thingol and the protection fell, the fell creatures began to migrate throughout the lands. In areas where our magic was strong they dared not approach for fear that our bright lights might burn their putrid flesh. Thranduil is not wrong to be concerned that other colonies may appear. We have often corresponded to discuss the rumours arising out of the East. The threat of another war forever lingers in our minds, especially knowing the black land of Mordor lies to the South. These foul beasts have sprung from the very depths of that dark pit, and I share Thranduil's belief that more will come.'

'I know he shall be vigilant in his watch and will show no mercy to those abominations,' Elrond said, 'but he has never been very open with his opinion when it is suggested another battle may one day need to be fought.'

'His reluctance to share his private thoughts is not an indication of disinterest,' Celeborn explained. 'It is something he does when a matter causes him grave concern. His feelings run deep within him, something that has always drawn his people to rally to his side and made him especially sensitive to the nature surrounding him. The thought of another war would grieve him deeply, as it does all of us, and therefore he will always keep his sword sheathed until absolute necessity forces him to withdraw it. He has seen too much bloodshed in his life and suffered the pain of loss too frequently; he will not be eager to willingly enter a war that could cost the lives of so many of his people, but in the end he will always do what is right.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, which will also be the last I'll be able to post this year as I'm headed off on holidays tomorrow. I should get the next chapter up during the second week of January. Until then, I wish you all a very happy Christmas and all the best for a wonderful, and prosperous, New Year. And to those readers living in much cooler climates where you have beautiful white snow, I shall think of you as I swelter away in the Australian heat! Although, thank God most places I'll be going have air-conditioning! :D

Also, just as a note of interest, if you're able to lay your hands on a copy of Tolkien's _The Father Christmas Letters_ I would highly recommend it as a splendid Christmas present to yourself, or any other Tolkien fan. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Gift of Foresight**_

There are many instances in both _The Silmarillion_ and _LOTR_ that show the Children of Ilúvatar (Elves and Men) may be gifted with a form of foresight. One of the most famous with the Elves is of course in _LOTR, Appendix A, The Númenorean Kings – (iv) Gondor & The Heirs of Anárion_ when Glorfindel foretells that "not by the hand of man will he [the Witch King of Angmar] fall" (cue applause for Éowyn and Merry!). As for the race of Men, we see in _LOTR, Book 2, Chapter 2 – The Council of Elrond_ that both Faramir and Boromir shared the same prophetic dream about finding "the Sword that was broken" and that "Doom is near at hand, for Isildur's Bane shall waken".


	9. A Time for Revelry

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Hello everyone and Happy New Year! I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas, and that 2018 has been treating you well so far. I'm back from holidays so I'm finally able to get another chapter up. My deepest thanks to all you wonderful people who are continuing to read this story, and especially to all of you who have now added it, myself, or one of my other stories to your favourite/follow list.

As I always like to do (being the only way I can adequately show my appreciation) I dedicate this chapter to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** for your lovely review of the last chapter. I love getting feedback, and your reviews are simply amazing and so encouraging.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and the father/son moment I've put in it! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 9 – A Time for Revelry**_

When word had spread that their king was not fully recovered and must remain a further two days abed, the Wood-Elves not on sentry duty took to lingering near the large tent to sing in the hopes their songs might provide some measure of entertainment and distraction to him. Consequently, on the day Thranduil was to emerge from the tent a great crowd had gathered to greet him, and the sound of their excited voices rang throughout the entire valley.

Hearing the joyous commotion increase in volume Legolas smiled, and fetching the crown he himself had fashioned from purple asters and other fresh summer flowers, he presented it to his father, saying, 'they are eager to see you again, Father.'

'As I am them,' Thranduil admitted, accepting the crown with a bow of thanks and placing it upon his head.

'Your people shall all be relieved to behold you looking so well, King Thranduil,' Gildoron announced. 'For my part I am extremely pleased.'

Turning towards the Elf who had been a close friend of his father's and who was now one of his most trusted advisors, Thranduil smiled. 'I will not forget the part you played in aiding my recovery, my friend,' he said. 'Legolas has informed me of all that you have done, and I am grateful for the support and guidance you gave to him.'

Then directing his attention to where Elrond and Celeborn stood near the entrance, Thranduil continued, 'similarly am I in your debt for the care and assistance you have provided to me, and your kind attentions to my son. These acts shall never fade from my memory and long shall my gratitude endure.'

'Had our situations been reversed you would have done the same,' Celeborn replied.

'Indeed, in the past you have come to the aid of the children of my brother's line when they were in peril near your realm,' Elrond said.

'Sadly in some cases I arrived too late.' His blue eyes darkened by the memory of the slaughter of Isildur's sons and a large company of men in the Gladden Fields, Thranduil directed an apologetic glance towards Elrond. 'Would that I had heard the news of the orc attack on Isildur a few hours earlier, then the tragedy could have been prevented.'

'After it first happened and you came to bear the news to me in Imladris, I told you that none can hold you responsible for the fate of Isildur and the others,' Elrond declared, 'and though you could not arrive in time to prevent their deaths, you did spare the bodies of the men from being mutilated by the orcs. Furthermore, you did save the life of Elendur's esquire, Estelmo. Had you not arrived and disturbed the enemy they would have found him, taken him as their captive and tortured him to death.'

Recalling the young boy whose faint cries he had heard issuing from under a mound of dead bodies, and who he himself had lifted out from beneath their cold weight, Thranduil remarked quietly, 'he was an extraordinarily brave child. I have little doubt he would have fought his captors to the death had they tried to restrain him.'

Into the brief silence that fell after his words, a burst of happy laughter outside the tent abruptly broke the solemn atmosphere.

'Your people are in quite high spirits,' Celeborn observed.

'They are indeed,' Thranduil concurred. Then accepting his staff from his son, the Elvenking of Eryn Galen straightened to his full height, announcing, 'let no dark thoughts shadow their joy this day. The evil at Amon Lanc has been vanquished for the moment and they have earned a respite from thinking on such matters. May their hearts be light and their merriment unconfined. Come, my friends, my son: let us go forth and greet them.'

Nodding his thanks to Gildoron who moved to hold back the silken drapes, Thranduil walked slowly to the tent's entrance and then gracefully stepped through the opening into the morning light.

Beholding their king for the first time since he was last seen lying wounded on the ground, the Elves of Eryn Galen gave a loud rousing cheer upon seeing him standing proudly before them; and if Celeborn and Elrond had seemed like the embodiment of the stars and night when they first arrived, then with his golden hair shining radiantly and his body illuminated brightly by light, Thranduil was like the sun.

Exiting the tent after his father, Legolas smiled as he watched the skilful manner in which his parent moved through the dense crowd with a brief touch of his hand, a warm smile and a gentle word to each of the Elves he passed.

After a short while some of the Silvan Elves from Lórien joined the merry group surrounding the Elvenking and were treated with the same courtesy shown to their northern kin – much to their obvious delight. Upon seeing this Elrond and Celeborn who stood behind Legolas laughed, and Elrond commented with good humour, 'King Amroth may find his people decreased in number ere this day is done.'

'My father would certainly welcome any new addition to our realm,' Legolas said, with a distinct twinkle in his bright eyes that danced with mirth. 'He is never more pleased than when the forest rings with the sound of laughter and our people feasting around the fire. Having several new Elves arrive in Eryn Galen would certainly be reason enough to celebrate for many days.'

'And for how long shall this revelry continue do you suppose?' Celeborn asked lightly, pointing to where several Elves had already begun a lively dance.

'A good two months,' Legolas answered cheerfully. 'They are very pleased to have my father restored to them, and the rest of our people shall wish to join the celebrations upon our return home.'

'Two months!' Celeborn appeared quite surprised. 'I had not thought Thranduil's cellars to be so well stocked as to contain sufficient Dorwinion wine to last for more than one month of continual festivity.'

'You severely underestimate the size of his cellars.' Legolas paused and then announced to his astounded listeners, 'there are enough barrels stored in our deepest cellars to supply our needs for more than six months.'

Momentarily stunned beyond words both Celeborn and Elrond were silent. Then in one voice they enquired, 'could he perchance spare one or two of them?'

O * O

A multitude of stars were shining in the darkened sky when Legolas next had an opportunity to speak with his father. Throughout the long day there had been many Elves who wished to greet their king and allay any fears that lingered as to his wellbeing. Having kept a close watch upon him from a distance, Legolas was aware the instant the crowd about his father finally lessened and a brief moment of privacy was granted to the Elvenking. Without hesitation, Legolas swiftly made his way towards him.

'Father, evening has fallen and yet you have not rested once since this morning,' he said by way of greeting. 'Your wounds have now closed over properly, but you should not overexert yourself so soon after rising for the first time from a healer's bed.'

Thranduil gazed down at his son with a slight smile curling his lips. 'I do not recall appointing such a severe nurse to myself,' he announced in considerable amusement. 'Come, my son, am I to be coddled like an infant until you deem me fully recovered?'

'Let us say rather until you no longer need to lean on your staff for support,' Legolas replied quietly. 'Do not look so surprised, Father. I have seen you carry that staff all my life, but never before have you pressed it against the ground hard enough to leave a mark. Your wounds are paining you and there is no shame in allowing your body a moment's rest. Please, come and sit with me a while until the ache in your back has eased.'

All sign of amusement had now left Thranduil's face, and with a sigh he made his way over to a large rock and lowered himself onto it. 'Very well child, I shall take a moment,' he conceded.

Satisfied, Legolas sat down on the ground at his father's feet and, with the soft green grass a comfortable cushion beneath him, he leaned his head back against his father's knee to look up at the stars.

'Lord Celeborn and Master Elrond wondered if you could spare some of your barrels of Dorwinion wine,' he said suddenly. 'They were surprised when I informed them how well-stocked you keep your cellars.'

'I trust you made no hasty promises on my behalf,' the Elvenking answered promptly, albeit with a hint of humour. 'Although I suppose it would be a worthy reward for the assistance they have provided.'

'Indeed.'

Glancing down to look upon his son's face, Thranduil was startled to see a trickle of tears glistening on his cheeks.

'Legolas?' Laying a gentle hand on the fair head resting against his knee, Thranduil felt a wave of concern sweep over him as he asked, 'my son, what causes your silent tears?'

For a long moment Legolas did not reply. Then, in a voice no louder than the soft whispering flutter of a bird's wing, he revealed, 'there were times when I watched over you as you lay still before me when I believed I would never again be able to sit with you like this. My heart would grow heavy and a great shadow would pass over me at the grim future my mind would create. Being granted the chance to share a moment like this with you once more has shattered the last of my defences, and now the tears I shed are caused by both relief and joy.

'O Father, I cannot fathom the pain you must have endured when you were sundered from both your parents and then my mother. The anguish you must have endured far exceeds my own and yet you have not once despaired or forsaken this world, whereas I had determined that if I lost you then this world would be naught but a barren wasteland that I would not hesitate to leave behind.'

Ignoring the small twinge of pain from the wounds in his back as he bent over, Thranduil pressed a warm kiss onto the top of Legolas' head before informing him gravely, 'dear child, were it not for your presence here then it would not have been long after your mother's passing that I would have sailed into the West. It has been you and you alone that has made this world home to me since that day – I could not have endured it otherwise. And when one has someone precious to protect it is simple to find the resolve to bear any suffering, for love is the greatest source of strength and can make even the faintest of hearts indomitable.'

Brushing his hand lightly over his son's fair hair, Thranduil continued softly, 'I am extremely proud of you Legolas. Elrond and Celeborn, along with Gildoron, have said that you were exemplary in your care of me and that your behaviour during this time attests well to your fine character and ability to guide our people. Furthermore, all those with whom I have conversed this day have spoken highly of you and your actions. They also confirmed that it was you who slew the spider that attacked me. Your skill with the bow continues to grow, my son, and though I regret the necessity of such talent I am grateful that you have been blessed with it and thank you for the rescue. I certainly had not expected such foul beings to be dwelling in our realm.'

'I had heard of such creatures and seen the drawings of them in your books, Father,' Legolas said, 'however, I must confess, to see one and feel the evil emanating from it caused such a chill of dread in my mind that for a brief fleeting moment my entire being froze, as though it were encased in ice.'

'A perfectly natural response upon laying eyes on one for the first time,' Thranduil reassured him, 'but you were quick to act after the initial shock, which is the most important fact. There are some who would have turned and fled at the thought that more may appear.'

Shifting his head's position so he could peer up at his father, Legolas admitted, 'had it not been you that the spider held I cannot honestly say if I would have acted the same as I did.'

'I am certain you would have, dear one,' Thranduil said with a fond smile. 'You possess a brave and compassionate heart that would not permit you to leave anyone in peril, be they stranger or friend.'

'I believe you may be slightly biased in my favour,' Legolas replied, although an answering smile began to curl his lips.

'Undoubtedly I am,' the Elvenking conceded, 'but not without good reason. Now come! I have rested my ancient and weary limbs as you wished so let us once more rejoin the merry gathering and enjoy the feast that is creating that delightful aroma.'

And indeed to the delight of many hearts, the valley was now filled with the mouth-watering scent of roast meats and heartening stew cooking over several cheerful fires.

'I never called them ancient,' Legolas protested, and wiping the tearstains from his cheeks the young prince of Eryn Galen reluctantly lifted his head from Thranduil's knee and gracefully rose to his feet. 'But do you not feel better now for having rested a while, Father?'

His smile turning slightly rueful, the Elvenking confessed he did. 'Your suggestion was not without merit,' he said, straightening to his full height as he stood up, 'however, pray do not inform our friends of it.'

'Why?'

'I have no desire to find myself again consigned to bedrest, and Elrond does seem to favour prescribing it – even after it is no longer required.'

'Perhaps it is he who considers you ancient,' Legolas suggested with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, 'for do not the elderly also require much rest?'

At this teasing comment a bark of laughter escaped Thranduil's lips. 'If that be true then I wonder that Celeborn is permitted to even walk!' he declared, and highly amused the tall Elvenking made his way towards the feast with all thoughts of spiders and the encroaching troubles of the world temporarily banished from his mind. Although he knew that the creatures they had discovered near Amon Lanc must only be a foreshadow of a greater evil that was stirring, for this night alone he would not dwell upon it.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** _I hope it was worth the wait, and the father/son bonding was to your liking. :)

When plotting the story I got to this point and was going to wrap it up, but then thought "why not take it up to BOTFA (which was the start of my very first story) and explain how the dwarves got the necklace of Elwen in the first place". After debating with myself (and having Thranduil constantly insisting on having his side of the story told!) I decided to commit myself to the mammoth effort of trying to cover a couple of thousand years of Middle-earth history in the following chapters. I will admit the narration will cover large slabs of time (otherwise I'd be writing this for the next 50 years!), but for other parts I will go in to detail. All going well the next chapter will be up next week. Thanks again for reading, and if you'd like to leave a comment please feel free to do so. Until next time, take care and be safe. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Thranduil's summer crown**_

In describing Thranduil's crown I deliberately only mentioned purple asters. This is due to the fact that asters take their name from the Greek word "astron" meaning star, and purple asters are said to generally symbolise wisdom and royalty. Overall the flower is said to suggest devotion, purity and faith. I therefore thought it appropriate to have purple asters adorn Thranduil's golden hair! :)

 _ **Thranduil giving aid to Elros' line**_

In _Unfinished Tales, Part 3: The Third Age, Chapter 1 – Disaster of the Gladden Fields_ , it describes how Isildur, his three sons and two hundred men were "passing the north borders of the Gladden Fields, marching along a path that led to Thranduil's realm" when they were attacked. It later states that: "There were rescuers who came on the scene too late, but in time to disturb the Orcs and prevent their mutilation of the bodies: for there were certain Woodmen who got news to Thranduil by runners, and also themselves gathered a force to ambush the Orcs…." It seems clear that Thranduil was not above providing assistance when it was needed. The esquire of Isildur's son Elendur that I mention, Estelmo, is also referred to in the above source as "one who survived the slaughter", and it is said that he "was one of the last to fall, but was stunned by a club, and not slain, and was found alive under Elendur's body. He heard the words of Isildur and Elendur at their parting."

 _ **Order of nobility/royalty**_

Although there is much discussion on who ranks higher among the Elves in Middle-earth (Celeborn, Elrond or Thranduil) I thought in his own kingdom (which incidentally is the largest) Thranduil would definitely be accorded the greatest deference, which is why I had him appear from the tent first followed by his son. The British royals when they make their balcony appearances have their royals appear in order of highest to lowest, with the greatest fanfare made over the Queen when she appears. I decided to use this system in this instance.

 _ **Silvan Elves in Lórien**_

In _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn _there are a number of references to the Silvan Elves who dwelt in Lórien and over whom King Amroth ruled.

 _ **Elves eating meat**_

I know in the movies they tended to portray Elves as vegetarians, eating nothing but bread, fruit and vegetables, however in his writing Tolkien did have the Elves consuming meat. In fact, in _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders _it is the scent of roast meat that first leads Thorin and company to crash the feast of the Wood-elves. I suppose the thing to remember is that the Elves wouldn't hunt for sport, only when they required nourishment for their bodies.


	10. A Most Curious Group of Visitors

**AUTHOR NOTE:** I will own it was a bit difficult to know how to make the jump from the last chapter to the next event I had in mind. I hope it reads smoothly for you all – please let me know if it does, or even if it doesn't, I'd love to know! ;)

I'd also like to express my sincerest thanks to all the readers who have faithfully stuck with the story so far. Whether you're quietly reading each chapter, or reading and reviewing, I do appreciate you all. And again, a special acknowledgement must go to **PegasusWingsVW** and **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** for your extremely positive reviews of the last chapter. It's always a lovely thrill to receive the email saying there's been a new review, and I do thank you for taking the time to let me know what you liked about the chapter. This one I dedicate to you both. :)

And now, back to the story!

* * *

 _ **Part 10 – A Most Curious Group of Visitors**_

Many centuries had passed since that summer's eve in the valley when the Elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the return of their king, and Thranduil had observed in growing disquiet and alarm the darkness that continued to spread across his realm, which had led to it being renamed Taur-e-Ndaedelos, or Mirkwood in the tongue of Men. After the first nest of spiders had been destroyed it had not been very long before many others began to appear. Then, when an even greater evil appeared at Amon Lanc, one more powerful than he and his people could defeat, he swiftly withdrew his people from the southern areas that surrounded the dark hill, and which would henceforth be known as Dol Guldur, and moved them further to the north. He had also forbidden his son, or any of his people, from travelling within three leagues of that land.

A visit from Lord Celeborn, the Lady Galadriel and their new ally, a wizard named Mithrandir, had not alleviated any of his concerns. The wise old man, for whom he had developed a fond tolerance that quickly became a mutual friendship, had certainly possessed a strong magical presence; however, upon discussing the possibility that the evil at Dol Guldur was one of the Nazgûl, it was decided that further investigation was required before any action could be taken. His guests had departed and the Elvenking watched for many years as the troubles of the world grew and wars again broke out between the different peoples of Middle-earth.

The news when it came to him from the birds friendly with his people, or fleet-footed messengers from Lórien or Imladris, was not encouraging: Orcs are increasing in number in the Misty Mountains; the Nazgûl have reappeared and the Witch-king of Angmar has invaded Arnor; civil war has come to Gondor and the burnt city of Osgiliath has fallen into ruin; the Corsairs have ravaged Pelargir; the Great Plague in Gondor has left many dead and is now spreading to the north and east; battles won, battles lost – the names of places changed, but not the fact that many innocents died and that the land of Mordor had become unguarded by those set to watch over it.

A spark of hope grew when word came of the defeat of the Witch-king at the Battle of Fornost, but upon hearing of Glorfindel's words to Eärnur and that the doom of Sauron's highest servant had not yet arrived, Thranduil grew even more cautious and increased the protections around his realm – even going so far as to enchant the stream that crossed the path made by his people, so that any who entered his realm without leave and drank or bathed in its water would fall into a deep sleep, and who would upon waking have forgotten their purpose for entering the forest.

And then came the dread news from out of Lórien: A beast of fire and shadow has been unearthed in the Dwarf mines of Moria and slain King Durin.

"A Balrog" was the whispered rumour among the eldest of the Elves, those who had seen the foul servants of Morgoth in Beleriand and had never forgotten the terror of those spirits of fire with their many-thonged whips of flame. A mere year later when Durin's son Náin was also killed and the Dwarves fled from the depths of their kingdom, the reports came of many Silvan Elves leaving their homes in Lórien to flee southward.

However, it was the loss of his dear friend and kinsman Amroth, together with the Silvan maid Nimrodel that brought the deepest pain to Thranduil's heart. He and Amroth had shared many joys and sorrows throughout their long years of friendship, and they had supported each other in their mutual grief when their fathers were both slain during the last great battle against Sauron. For many weeks after receiving the news all those seeking an audience with the Elvenking found him attentive but stern, with his eyes grim and his mouth unsmiling. Only to Legolas in private moments would he relax his rigid mask and permit some emotion to show.

Several years passed and in that passage of time the reports from Celeborn and Galadriel, who had taken guardianship over Lórien, and from Elrond in Imladris, gave little encouragement that the world would find peace.

And then came the day, almost a millennia after the first shadow had fallen over the Woodland realm, when a most unusual party arrived at the forest gate on the western border seeking an audience with the Elvenking of Mirkwood. Permission having been granted, the group swiftly found themselves escorted through the forest by a number of merry elf-guards who led them along unmarked paths for several days. Then, early one morning as the sun was rising in the clear blue sky in the East, they reached the bridge that led across the river to the great gates of the king's palace.

Laughing and singing the elf-guards minded not at all when their king's visitors paused to examine the stone bridge or the large, finely crafted gates. Upon entering the great cave, the group slowly removed their hoods as they gazed in amazement at the walls of the brightly lit passageways that sparkled with unmined gemstones.

'They're rather fine,' one voice observed gruffly.

'Aye, 'tis a rich earth here in the North,' another murmured in reply.

All fell silent again as they followed their escort down the twisting and confusing labyrinth of echoing paths until they saw a grand entrance of heavy stone doors. A pair of guards stood sentry before it, and as the group drew near the tallest guard nodded courteously, and said, 'greetings to you, Lord Thráin of Moria, and to your companions. As a sign of his goodwill, our king has granted that you may all retain your weapons as you enter his hall; however, as his loyal guards we bid you to ensure that none are drawn or raised in his presence.'

A small grumbling murmur arose from some of Thráin's companions, but the leader of the Dwarves merely inclined his head and replied, 'it is a most gracious gesture by King Thranduil, and given these uncertain times where friends may quickly turn to foe I understand the concern for the safety of your king, Master Elf. Therefore, upon my honour as a son of Durin's line, I swear that neither I, nor any of my party, shall draw or raise our weapons whilst in the presence of King Thranduil.'

Satisfied with this reassurance, the guard turned and opened the doors. 'Then pray enter,' he invited warmly.

As they entered into the great hall, the Dwarves stared at the sight of the large cavernous space filled with glittering tall pillars hewn out of the living stone. Though not crafted as expertly as the wondrous halls that now lay abandoned in Moria, the Elvenking's hall did possess a unique beauty that their hearts and eyes could admire. Walking slowly the Dwarves approached the raised dais where the Elvenking sat on a fine throne of carven wood and was clad in silver-blue robes. A crown of colourful spring flowers adorned his golden hair and in his hand Thranduil held his staff of carven oak. His blue eyes were keen as lances as he looked at his guests, and in their depths the Dwarves could see the deep memory of several ages.

The Elves who were gathered near the throne stepped aside as their king stood up and descended from the dais to greet his guests.

'Welcome King Thráin, son of Náin!' Thranduil said with cool civility, inclining his head in greeting. 'Many years has it been since last one of Durin's folk travelled to these northern parts. And welcome too, to all your companions.'

Bowing so low that his long dark beard brushed the ground, Thráin replied politely, 'we thank you for granting us an audience so quickly, O King.'

'Your message intrigued us,' Thranduil admitted. 'We have not had dealings with any Dwarves for over an age, so your request to negotiate a mutually beneficial agreement was rather unexpected. But before we address such matters, you and your companions must be weary from your travels. Our morning repast has just been prepared and I invite you to join me at table if it please you.'

'You are kind in your hospitality, King Thranduil,' Thráin answered, his words accompanied by another deep bow. 'My companions and I do readily accept your offer.'

'Then let us withdraw to the dining hall,' Thranduil announced, and he led the way from the room with his people and guests following him in due order.

The sound of fair voices talking gaily and joyous music played upon harps greeted them as they entered the dining hall, and upon the long table that ran the length of the room was set a variety of delicious foods that would satisfy any appetite. As the scent of roasted meat wafted towards them all the eyes of the Dwarves brightened, and quite a number of their stomachs growled in anticipation of the feast that awaited them.

His expression unfathomable the Elvenking took his place at the head of the table with Legolas placing himself at his right side. Gesturing to the vacant place at his left, Thranduil invited Thráin to take it. As they saw their king accept the invitation, the other Dwarves began to make their way to the table to find a seat between the chattering Elves, many of whom had already begun passing bowls to each other in a merry fashion.

'It is a fine meal you have presented us with, O King,' Thráin commented, helping himself to a large portion of smoked ham and eggs followed by several portions of buttery fish coated in different herbs that enticed his appetite. 'We did not expect you to feed us.'

'One should not allow their guests to starve,' Thranduil returned drily, 'it would certainly show a rather appalling lack of manners.'

O * O

Sometime later as the meal continued to progress, Thranduil glanced around the table as his people and guests consumed their breakfast together. Never had he thought he would ever again sit at table with a dwarf – let alone a whole group of them! The betrayal and treachery of the Dwarves from Nogrod would forever taint his feelings for the race that Aulë had created, and for whom he had once held the highest respect for their efforts in the first battle against Morgoth in Beleriand. As a young elf he had heard the many stories from both his father and Elu Thingol of how the Dwarves had helped his people, and later he had befriended a number of the Dwarves that travelled to Doriath to work in the great halls of Menegroth. But then had come that black day which would forever live in infamy.

Taking a small sip of mead, Thranduil carefully placed the goblet in his hand back on the table as the grim memory played out in his mind.

 _Their ladies having decided to spend time with Queen Melian in her garden, both Thranduil and Celeborn were conversing upon the wide bridge that led to the great gates of Menegroth when the doors crashed open and a great company of Dwarves ran out. Unaware of the cruel deed that prompted the Dwarves' speedy departure neither elf moved to stop them. In fact, Thranduil in his natural merriment cried out, 'why such haste, Master Dwarves? Have you set fire to your smithies? Are the great halls of Menegroth to be engulfed in flames?'_

 _The Dwarves made no answer, but continued moving quickly over the bridge and then ran eastward._

' _There was an ominous air about them,' Celeborn declared with a frown. Turning back to look at the gate that had not closed he suddenly paled. 'The enchantment upon the door has weakened! Thingol!'_

 _Heeding the urgent note in his friend's voice, Thranduil did not delay in following as Celeborn sped inside the entrance and raced down the labyrinth of passageways that led to the smithies which lay deep underground – for all those who dwelt within Menegroth knew that their king was ever going down there alone to sit among the Dwarves as they remade the Nauglamír to include the Silmaril._

 _Upon seeing the two elf-lords running along the corridors many of the Elves began to follow, so that upon arriving at the main chamber where the Dwarves had been working a large host bore witness to the brutal fate of their king._

 _The burning fires in the furnace cast flickering shadows across the grey stones on the ground that were now stained red by streams of elven blood. No sound was heard as the Elves quickly followed the blood to its source; but great were the cries of dismay and anguish that arose upon its discovery!_

 _His tall body beaten and pierced with many wounds, Elu Thingol, King of Doriath, lay in a pool of his own blood; the deep crimson liquid coating the shining silver of his hair as it fell about his still form like fading streams of starlight. No weapon of his could be seen, but his torn and battered hands gave silent testament to the fact that he had used them to fight desperately against his foes._

 _Of the Nauglamír and the Silmaril there was no sign._

' _Great will be our wrath in dealing with those craven villains!' one elf cried loudly in grief._

' _Let those who committed this heinous deed receive due punishment,' another demanded harshly. 'Exact a death for a death, but let their deaths be many! For they all had a part in this crime!'_

 _The voices grew louder and looking upon his friend's face, Thranduil saw the deep bitter anger that he felt reflected in Celeborn's eyes._

' _Grief shall have its time, but now shall I seek retribution on behalf of my slain kin, the beloved brother of my grandfather, who was also my sovereign lord,' Celeborn swore._

' _My sword is yours to command, my friend,' Thranduil said grimly._

' _Then let us pursue those vile betrayers and thieves who broke all codes of honour and hospitality, and let our justice be swift and merciless upon them!'_

 _With a chilling cry the other Elves echoed the sentiment, and with a last glance at their slain king they set forth to hunt down his murderers._

'Father? Father?'

Legolas' quiet voice was accompanied by his hand lightly touching Thranduil's arm. The Elvenking blinked to dispel the visions of the past before turning his head to glance at his son who was looking up at him in concern.

'You have not spoken a word to me, nor touched your food in some time,' Legolas said softly. 'What troubles you, Father?'

'A memory, my son,' Thranduil answered quietly. 'One that shall never fade.' And looking to where the Dwarves were still happily eating, he knew that though they shared no part in the slaughter of King Thingol, nor in the deaths of his own dear friends during the first assault on Doriath by the host from Nogrod, he could never again fully trust a member of their race. However, he would conceal his distrust and listen to Thráin's proposal for the possible benefit it could provide to his people and his realm.

 _And to satisfy my own curiosity,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Below are the main references/explanations for some things mentioned in this chapter. I hope they prove helpful if you got a bit confused. :) Also, I might be a bit late posting next week as I'll be off celebrating Australia Day with my family, but rest assured I will get the next chapter up! Until then, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Greenwood Becomes Mirkwood**_

In _LOTR, Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age_ Tolkien puts the time of the shadow falling over Greenwood as 1050 and states that "men begin to call it Mirkwood". In _Unfinished Tales_ in the Index it states that Taur-e-Ndaedelos (Forest of the Great Fear) is the Sindarin name of Mirkwood.

From the first source Tolkien also says that it was during the year 1100 that: "The Wise (the Istari and the chief Eldar) discover that an evil power has made a stronghold at Dol Guldur. It is thought to be one of the Nazgûl." From that source also came the other events that are mentioned in passing, and also the coming of Thráin I to Erebor in 1999 to found a dwarf-kingdom after Náin I is killed in 1981 and the Dwarves flee from Moria, which is also when Amroth and Nimrodel are lost and many Silvan Elves of Lórien flee south. _Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, IV The History of Galadriel & Celeborn: _"But when terror came out of Moria and the Dwarves were driven out … she (Nimrodel) fled distraught alone south into empty lands [in the year 1981 of the Third Age]. Amroth followed her…"

 _ **Protections of Mirkwood**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 7 – Queer Lodgings_ Beorn tells the company of Thorin that in Mirkwood "there is one stream there, I know, black and strong which crosses the path. That you should neither drink of, nor bathe in; for I have heard that it carries enchantment and a great drowsiness and forgetfulness." This struck me as the sort of enchantment Elves would place as a defence strategy, seeing as it doesn't actually kill the person or animal that drinks it, so I think it may have been something Thranduil may have put in place to defend his realm.

In the next chapter _Flies & Spiders_, it also says of the Wood-elves that "though their magic was strong, even in those days they were wary." This made me consider that if the Wood-elves (Silvan folk) had powerful magic, then Thranduil's would have to be stronger (having been exposed to Melian's influence and teachings in Doriath) and could go some way to explaining how he managed to keep his realm safe for so long without a ring of power. In that chapter we also have proof of the forgetfulness caused by the stream when Bombur awakens and "had forgotten everything that had happened since they started their journey that May morning long ago. The last thing that he remembered was the party at the hobbit's house…." Quite a strong enchantment you have there, Thranduil! :)

 _ **Amroth kin to Thranduil**_

It states in _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Amroth & Nimrodel_ that the people of Lórien during the time of Amroth's rule were "much as they were at the end of the Third Age: Silvan Elves in origin, but ruled by princes of Sindarin descent (as was the realm of Thranduil in the northern parts of Mirkwood; though whether Thranduil and Amroth were akin is not now known.)" I've taken the liberty of giving kinship to Thranduil and Amroth for the simple reason that they were both called "princes of Sindarin descent". Tolkien never (as far as I can discover) confirmed if his use of the word "prince" was to be taken to mean a prince by blood, or prince as a title similar to those in medieval times given to lords or rulers of territories. I decided to go with prince by blood. Tolkien never mentioned the parents of Elwë and his brothers; in _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion: Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor_ we only know that the "Unbegotten" or "the Eru-begotten" Elves were awakened in the bay of Cuiviénen during the Years of the Trees and the Elves lived in that area for five hundred years. Elwë would have to have been born there, not awakened, as he had two brothers and thus would have to have parents (if he had been awakened he would have neither). Therefore it is possible that through his parents he may have been cousins with both Oropher and Amdír (father of Amroth). For more information on this you can find it in _The History of Middle-earth, The War of the Jewels, Part 4 – Quendi & Eldar, Appendix: The Legend of the Awakening of the Quendi (Cuivienyarna)_.

 _ **Thranduil, Celeborn & the Dwarves of Nogrod**_

The events that Thranduil recalls are all mentioned in _The Silmarillion_. The dwarves met the Elves in the Year of the Trees and there was friendship between them. It was the dwarves who warned Elu Thingol of the orcs attacking the Elves on the other side of the mountain, and not only helped make the armour for the Elves, but assisted them in the battle against Morgoth. It also states that the dwarves who came to Doriath to work in Menegroth now came "no longer in small parties as aforetime, but in great companies well armed for their protection in the perilous lands between Aros and Gelion."

The murder of Elu Thingol as he met with the dwarves alone and unarmed in the deep smithies of Menegroth is also mentioned. For those of you who have not read the book, this is the passage that describes what happened after the Silmaril was placed into the Nauglamir, and the particulars of which none of his people would have been aware:

"Then Thingol, being alone among them, made to take it up and clasp it about his neck; but the Dwarves in that moment withheld it from him and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: 'By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamir, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond [elven stronghold].' But Thingol perceived their hearts, and saw well that desiring the Silmaril they sought but a pretext and fair cloak for their true intent; and in his wrath and pride he gave no heed to his peril, but spoke to them in scorn, saying: 'How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by the waters of Cuiviénen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?' And standing tall and proud among them he bade them with shameful words be gone unrequited out of Doriath. Then the lust of the Dwarves was kindled to rage by the words of the king; and they rose up about him, and laid hands on him, and slew him as he stood."

Menegroth is described as having a bridge made of stone over a river that was the only means of entering the great gates of Thingol's hall (sounds very much like Thranduil's place!), so the dwarves would have had to leave by that way after killing Thingol.

Celeborn's reaction to the slaying of Thingol (his own great uncle) I thought would be pretty intense given the violent nature of the crime and the fact Thingol was alone and unarmed at the time. In _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn _it states that Tolkien wrote "Celeborn had no liking for Dwarves of any race (as he showed to Gimli in Lothlórien), and never forgave them for their part in the destruction of Doriath."

One thing I will also mention is that in _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders _the narration of the history of the Elves and Dwarves appears to blend both Thingol and Thranduil into it. The first description of the "ancient days" where there was war between the two races and the reason given from both sides matches that of what happened with Thingol, who is referred to as the elf-king. We then have a comment about the elf-king (presumably Thranduil) having a weakness for treasure, "especially for silver and white gems". The last statement says that "the old quarrel" mentioned before had nothing to do with Thorin's family. Therefore, at this point in my story although he doesn't like Dwarves, Thranduil has no particular quarrel with this particular family. Also, can I just say that just because someone has a weakness for something doesn't mean they'll go start a war to get it (like some people *cough* Peter Jackson *cough* make out Thranduil would do over treasure, even though he says in the book "long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold".) I myself have a weakness for pretty sparkling things and first edition books, but I certainly wouldn't kill someone for them! It is overwhelming greed, not just a weakness for something, which drives people to violent action.


	11. The Erebor Accord

**AUTHOR NOTE:** To all my Australian readers I hope you had a wonderful Australia Day, and didn't get sunburnt too much! :) I had a great day looking at monkeys, emus, wild birds, and petting a baby kangaroo, a couple of lambs and a deer, whilst being mobbed by hungry ducks and geese at a local family park.

Also, my apologies for the late posting - like Thranduil I had visitors, but thankfully, unlike Thranduil's guests, mine were close family members - so I didn't mind talking with them at all! :) The further delay happened before I could do the final proofread of this chapter after I uploaded it to Doc Manager - my thumb got caught between a door and the frame when I was leaving work on Wednesday and the end got cut off. I had the surgery yesterday to fix it (although the surgeon has to do his follow-up next week to ensure everything is OK), so now I've got a very painful thumb, and 6 weeks of healing to do. (I also now have a greater empathy for Frodo when Gollum bites his finger off!). I'll do my best with updates, but only being able to type one-handed is incredibly slow!

Once again my thanks to all of you who are reading this story, and, of course, a special thank you to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** for your review of the last chapter - and I don't mind at all that it was your favourite so far! And another special word of thanks to **AndurilofTolkien** for your reviews of quite a number of chapters – I had a happiness overload seeing all those email notifications! :D This chapter is dedicated to you both - and also to the wonderful medical staff who worked so hard to fix my poor thumb and get me home so I could finally post this chapter for you all! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 11 – The Erebor Accord**_

When the feast had come to an end, and the Dwarves' hunger had been fully satisfied, Thranduil and several of his closest advisors rose from the table and led Thráin and his companions to a large chamber. The room was filled with a soft light, its dark walls with numerous gems spread across its surface shimmering like the night sky filled with stars. An oval table was placed in the middle of the wide space, and around it were a number of finely crafted chairs, including one more ornate than the others that was clearly for the sole use of the Elvenking. In one section around the table the chairs had been removed, and several low benches made from stone had been placed to accommodate the Dwarves' smaller stature. And in the far corner of the chamber was the warm glow of a fire as it burned in a great hearth.

Once everyone was seated, Thranduil turned to Thráin.

'Now has come the time for our discourse,' he said. 'Let us hear your proposal, King Thráin, and in good counsel we shall consider it.'

Rising to his feet, Thráin gave a small bow towards his host and said, 'firstly, we again extend our deepest thanks to you, King Thranduil, for agreeing to meet with us, and for the meal you so generously provided.' Then, his young face becoming quite solemn, he began to speak in a deep serious voice that lent an earnest quality to his words.

'You have surely heard of the dreadful fate that befell our great city of Moria after we inadvertently awoke Durin's Bane. After my father was killed and our people fled their homes we wandered across many lands seeking a new dwelling where we might rebuild our realm. Some of our elders then mentioned the ancient Mountain of Erebor where once an old mining colony existed. We have heard that for many an age it has lain empty, save for the occasional band of Orcs who have tried to make it their lair. Your reputation for swiftly dealing with them is well known, O King.'

'I have found Orcs make for very unpleasant neighbours,' Thranduil commented, 'I had no wish to have a horde of them troubling either my realm or the people of Esgaroth.'

'Aye, that is a sentiment we Dwarves can understand,' Thráin said with a nod. 'And should you find favour with our request we can promise that no Orc shall ever again set foot inside the Mountain.'

Thranduil slightly arched a single eyebrow. 'A notable feat that would be indeed,' he remarked. 'Your purpose in requesting this audience has become clear to me, King Thráin, but for the sake of my advisors who may still wonder, would you please give voice to it.'

Straightening to his full height, Thráin took a deep breath and said, 'vast is the Elven realm of King Thranduil that covers the ancient forest once known as Greenwood the Great and which extends to the western shores of Long Lake and the woods that surround the mighty height of Erebor. As lord and guardian of those lands we seek your leave to make our home at your eastern border, inside the great depths of Erebor. In return for this permission, from the mines we build there would flow an abundance of wealth that would benefit all our neighbours, for trade would increase; and for the right to use the old road built by our forebears that runs through your realm to convey the treasures we created to other lands, we shall pay a fair and honest toll for the privilege. We would build strong fortifications to defend the Mountain and would guard these lands against all who would seek to invade them. That is the request from me, Thráin son of Náin, King of the Dwarves of Moria, to you, Thranduil son of Oropher, King of the Elven Realm of Mirkwood.'

A brief silence descended upon the chamber after Thráin finished speaking and retook his seat on the stone bench next to his kin. As one the Dwarves watched as the Elves all looked towards their king and an unspoken conversation appeared to take place between them.

Finally the Elvenking rose to his feet to give his answer.

'The courtesy shown in seeking our leave speaks well of your character, King Thráin,' Thranduil said quietly, 'for whilst my realm does extend to those lands near the Mountain, it does not include Erebor itself. You were at liberty to create your new city without seeking audience with myself.'

'I did not think you would look with favour upon our suddenly arriving on your doorstep without warning,' Thráin admitted frankly. 'You might have regarded our appearance with suspicion, even hostility.'

At these words Thranduil gave a small smile. 'As would any ruler who one morning found a great host encamped upon their border,' he replied. 'Now, let us speak of your request. All that you have offered sounds fair and just, but my people and I would seek two additions to the agreement. Firstly, that no tree within this realm be felled by you without our leave. Should you not wish to seek our leave then you must obtain what timber you require from the woodlands that lie further away. Secondly, that –'

To the astonishment of the Dwarves, Thranduil's voice abruptly broke off and a flicker of barely suppressed pain passed through his eyes. Then the Elvenking stepped away from the table. In gathering bewilderment, the Dwarves watched as their host walked over to where the fire burned in the hearth, and then stood gazing down into its red flames in silence.

After a long pause where the only noise to be heard in the room was the crackling of logs in the fire, Thranduil spoke again. All emotion had been stripped from his voice, but his softly spoken words conveyed unmistakably that this was the only term that was of personal importance to him.

'Many years ago a band of Orcs assaulted and killed My Lady. Along with her life, they also stole from her a necklace. This precious gift bestowed upon her by Queen Melian of Doriath they took into the deep ancient tunnels of Erebor, and there it has remained hidden. Although my people have searched the Mountain numerous times throughout these past centuries they have found no sign of it. I therefore place this condition above all others in accepting your proposal and shall hold you, and all your heirs, honour bound to it: Should your people in their labours at Erebor come to discover the necklace of Queen Elwen then it is to be returned forthwith to the hands of myself or my son, Legolas. No claim is to ever be made upon it by your people. These are our additional terms, and they are not negotiable – either now or in times to come.'

Once Thranduil finished speaking, all the Dwarves sat motionless for a brief moment before Thráin stood up and declared loudly, 'as Lord and King of Durin's Folk I hereby swear that all such terms as you have stated, King Thranduil, will be honoured by me and all my descendants. May the written record show that we have reached agreement and let no act from dwarf or elf break it.'

Then both Thráin and Thranduil summoned their scribes and had the agreement between them written up; two copies were to be done with each containing both runes and letters.

'My King, the toll for the use of the forest road? Shall it be a set price or a portion of the value of the cargo carried along it?'

The elf-scribe's question caused a bit of whispered arguments between the Dwarves until finally Thráin announced, 'we propose a set price for any individual party that uses the road, and for any delivery of treasure we will surrender a portion of it.'

Upon Thranduil accepting the proposal and the two kings agreeing upon a fair percentage of cargo and the set price, the scribes swiftly included the details. Then the scribe for Thráin asked, 'King Thranduil, to enable our people to identify the necklace of Queen Elwen, could you please describe it?'

Without hesitation Thranduil said, 'it was made of the finest elven silver by our craftsmen who dwelt in Doriath. Into the intricate design of leaves and vines were set precious stones. They are white gems, pearls from the Isle of Balar, whose sheen is that of pure starlight. The central stone is the size of a dove's egg. A drawing of the necklace shall be provided to you.'

When the two scribes had finished writing up the agreements, Thráin and Thranduil compared the documents. Finding them to be identical, they signed their names to both and then each retained a copy.

'By your leave, O King, we shall now be on our way,' Thráin said, securing his copy of the agreement inside his garments. 'My people and I are anxious to reach our new home.'

'An escort will be provided to lead you out of the forest,' Thranduil replied, 'and provisions supplied for your journey, for it is a march of several days to reach the Mountain.'

The Dwarves all bowed low in thanks, and Thráin said, 'farewell, King Thranduil! May your treasure stores never be empty, and may your woods ever be merry.'

Inclining his head in return, Thranduil answered, 'farewell, King Thráin! May the stone pillars of your new home long endure, and may your people live long in prosperity.'

Then the Dwarves withdrew and followed Eraisuithan as he led them towards the great gates.

At a gesture from their king the other Elves in the chamber departed from the room leaving him alone. Upon the table lay his copy of the agreement. As the door closed behind the last Elf, Thranduil lowered himself onto his seat, shut his eyes and leaned back to rest his head against the back of his chair with a sigh.

'O Elbereth, have I acted wisely?' he murmured. 'A realm of Dwarves so near to ours, is this prudent? Is it possible that no harm shall come from it? Still I hear the screams of my kin in Doriath as they fell beneath the weapons of the naugrim. Should the Dwarves' greed for gold and silver drive them to invade my realm, will I again have to watch as my people are slaughtered? Shall my son's blood be spilt as was the blood of King Thingol? O that I might know for certain that this agreement will ever serve only as a treaty of peace!'

A quiet knock at the door, followed by the appearance of his son, swiftly brought a halt to Thranduil's troubled reflections.

'Legolas! I had not thought to see you till this evening,' he said, his expression betraying none of his inner turmoil over his dealings with the Dwarves. 'Were you not planning to join the hunting party?'

'I decided to remain here as I was curious to discover what request the Dwarves could possibly ask of you,' Legolas replied, and he seated himself in the chair beside his father. 'I have just seen them leave with Eraisuithan as he led them to the gates, so I know you have concluded your business with them. What did they want from you?'

Wordlessly, the Elvenking slid the copy of the written agreement along the table towards his son. Having quickly read it, the young Elf looked up and remarked, 'they are generous terms. Still, I am surprised you agreed, Father. Many of the stories I have heard and read about the Dwarves has not been to their credit.'

'They have had their moments of distinction,' Thranduil reminded him, 'and they work hard in their labours. It is unfortunate that their greed too often blinds them to all precepts of honour and loyalty.'

Aware of the most bitter example of the consequences of this greed and which his father had survived, Legolas wisely did not pursue the topic. Instead, he suggested, 'being skilled in delving in dark underground places the Dwarves may find Mother's necklace very quickly.'

'That is my hope,' Thranduil admitted. 'Too long has its brightness lived in the cold and gloomy depths of that mountain.'

Responding to the pain he could feel in his father's spirit at the continued loss of his beloved wife's necklace, Legolas reached out and laid a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. 'In time all things shall come to light, and there is nothing lost that cannot also be found,' he said softly. 'You told me that once, long ago when I was still a child. I had misplaced your gift to me – the first bow I could call my own. For three days I mourned its loss before you came to me and placed it back in my hands. Eglerion later told me that you had searched without rest until you found it. Therefore, knowing that the Dwarves would not want a single piece of treasure to be forever lost within their own realm, I am certain that Mother's necklace will be found one day.'

The fond reminiscent smile that had appeared on Thranduil's face at the memory Legolas' words had evoked, became one of loving affection as he raised one hand and placed it over his son's, saying, 'and on that day her spirit will seem all the nearer to us, my child.' Then rising slowly to his feet, he said, 'now come, the day is almost half gone and I would not have you spend your time concerning yourself over me. I hear from Calanon that a grand feast is being planned for your young friend, Beiniel, who comes of age today. Should I be worried that some of the casks of my best Dorwinion Wine may go missing again?'

Recalling the feast from the previous week when he and his friends had consumed three whole barrels of the wine from his father's private cellar without permission, Legolas blushed. 'I apologise again for that, Father,' he said ruefully. 'We were some of us overly merry from Mithrandir's visit and I neglected to –'

'I spoke in jest, Legolas,' Thranduil interrupted with a laugh. 'I know the effects of Mithrandir's lively conversations, and from your quite fulsome apologies at the time I am aware that there was no intentional wrongdoing on your part. You are welcome to use the wine for your own feasts, my son; it is just that poor Galion was quite beside himself when he came to tell me of the discrepancy between his records and the physical numbers. I do believe he thought I would think he had consumed them himself and consign him to the dungeons! Therefore, it is for his sake that you need to ensure the proper request is made so he does not become a trembling leaf each time a barrel goes missing.'

'Dear Galion,' Legolas mused fondly. 'I know not why he is so afraid of you, Father.'

'It is not fear of me that causes his trembling,' Thranduil retorted drily. 'Galion has quite the fondness for wine himself, and were barrels of my best wine to frequently mysteriously disappear then, in his mind at least, I may suspect him of being the culprit and order that he never drink it again. It would be quite a harsh penance for him.'

'It would be a harsh penance for any elf,' Legolas remarked. 'Would you ever issue such a punishment to him if one day he did consume so much of your wine without permission?'

'I sense that should he ever commit such a lapse in judgement, the punishment he would inflict upon himself would be more severe than any I would give, for he takes his duties quite seriously,' Thranduil answered. Then picking up the agreement from the table, he said, 'pray pass along my felicitations to Beiniel. I trust you will ensure he does not get up to too much mischief during the feast.'

'I will do my best, Father.'

'Thank you, for I have no desire to deal with an outraged populace tomorrow morning, as I anticipate having to spend an evening answering the questions that will undoubtedly arise from my having entered into this agreement.' Looking down at the document in his hand, Thranduil added gratefully, 'fortunately at least, Celeborn shall have to write all of his and I shall have time to consider how best to reply without my words eliciting a stern lecture on the untrustworthiness of Dwarves!'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks again for reading, and until next time keep well and be safe. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Thráin's proposal**_

With Thráin entering into negotiations with Thranduil, I thought this would be appropriate given that in _Unfinished Tales, Part Two: The Second Age, Chapter 4 – The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Appendix B – The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves_ it states that "…in one essay Thranduil's realm is said to have 'extended into the woods surrounding the Lonely Mountain and growing along the west shores of the Long Lake, before the coming of the Dwarves exiled from Moria and the invasion of the Dragon." And in _The Hobbit, Chapter 11 – On the Doorstep_ Balin says in relation to those woods: "The mountain's sides were green with woods and all the sheltered valley rich and pleasant…." Believing Thráin I to be quite honourable I thought he would first seek the permission of the king nearest to the location he wanted to turn into a dwarf-kingdom, rather than have that king become offended that someone settled themselves right on his doorstep without so much as a by your leave!

 _ **Runes & Letters**_

Both runes (Cirth) and letters (Tengwar) would have been recognisable to Thranduil and Thráin. In _LOTR, Appendix E – Writing & Spelling _Tolkien writes: "The scripts and letters used in the Third Age were all ultimately of Eldarin origin…The Tengwar [letters] were the more ancient; for they had been developed by the Noldor...The oldest letters, the Tengwar of Rúmil, were not used in Middle-Earth. The later letters, the Tengwar of Fëanor, were largely a new invention…The Cirth [runes] were devised first in Beleriand by the Sindar…the richest and most ordered form was known as the Alphabet of Daeron, since in Elvish tradition it was said to have been devised by Daeron, the minstrel and loremaster of King Thingol of Doriath. Among the Eldar the Alphabet of Daeron did not develop true cursive forms, since for writing the Elves adopted the Fëanorian letters…In the country of Eregion, however, the Alphabet of Daeron was maintained in use and passed thence to Moria, where it became the alphabet most favoured by the Dwarves…the Dwarves made use of such scripts as were current and many wrote the Fëanorian letters skilfully; but for their own tongue they adhered to the Cirth, and developed written pen-forms from them."


	12. The King & the Foundling

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Typing one-handed really slowed me down, so my apologies for the extreme lateness of this chapter, and most likely the next couple! Until the surgeon clears me I'll be typing at tortoise speed, but like when he raced against the hare I will get there – slowly, but surely. :) I had another check-up today and there's no sign of infection (a very good thing!), but it'll still be some weeks before we'll know if the surgery worked. _sigh..._

My thanks go out to all of you who are reading this story, and to those who have added it or myself to your favourite/follow list. To **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** and **AndurilofTolkien** go my deepest thanks for your lovely reviews of the last chapter. It is my great pleasure to dedicate this chapter to you both, and I hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 12 – The King & the Foundling**_

Needless to say, Thranduil's replies to Celeborn's concerned and incredulous enquiries about the agreement with the Dwarves were diplomatic, but they certainly allayed the Sindarin Prince's anxiety about his friend's state of mind. In his own unique manner, the Elvenking made it clear that despite the almost amicable terms of the agreement, he was not about to forget the grim history that lay between the two races, and nor would he be so foolish as to overlook the Dwarves' previous record for breaking faith with their allies for the sake of treasure. Satisfied with Thranduil's answers, Celeborn's next correspondence when it came contained no lecture, only further news of happenings in the south.

And so time continued to pass with Thranduil keeping a close watch on his new neighbours in Erebor; and although word was swiftly spread throughout the land upon Thráin finding a great jewel, the Arkenstone, inside the Mountain, no tidings were ever received announcing the recovery of Queen Elwen's necklace.

As the Dwarves continued to thrive in the depths of Erebor and appeared satisfied with their pursuit for unearthing hoards of treasure, the Elvenking focused on fighting to quell the numbers of spiders in his realm and reading each new report from his friends when they arrived with increasing concern.

The news from the south was particularly disquieting: The Nazgûl have issued forth from Mordor and have laid siege to Minas Ithil; Minas Ithil has fallen and become Minas Morgul; the new king of Gondor, Eärnur, has been challenged to single combat by the Witch-king of Angmar; the challenge to King Eärnur was renewed, he accepted and was lost in Minas Morgul – the line of mortal kings has faded.

The grim tidings made the Elvenking ever more cautious. Then, when the power in Dol Guldur began to increase, he immediately began to renew the protections about his realm and sent urgent word to Lórien and Imladris. For three years he kept Legolas close to home and near his side, whilst he watched as the land in the south grew darker and more ominous with each passing day. When Mithrandir journeyed to see him after having ventured forth into Dol Guldur alone and the dark presence had fled before the old wizard, the Elvenking knew that the respite from the troubling news of the world would not be of long duration.

And so it proved to be.

Whilst the fell servants of Sauron remained ominously silent in their fortified keep of Minas Morgul, King Thorin, having ruled the dwarven realm in Erebor for a number of years after the death of his father Thráin, had abandoned the great halls of that kingdom and led his people north to the Grey Mountains. He took with him the great jewel, the Arkenstone, and began to gather the entire remnant of Durin's Folk about him. There in the rich northern lands he and his people delved deeply, seeking to amass the great wealth that lay beneath the ground.

All this Thranduil regarded with a troubled heart, for in the north there still dwelt dragons in the far wastelands, and the vast amount of treasure the Dwarves were amassing could soon attract their attention.

However, a distraction arrived at his palace that briefly drew his thoughts away from the troublesome Dwarves.

One morning in midsummer an omen greeted Legolas and his friends as they returned to the cave after a night of feasting: a colour of the deepest red lay spread against the dawn sky. Then word was swiftly brought by the birds from the south of a small band of Orcs that had attacked a group of Elves near the southeast border.

'Father, please permit me to lead the hunting party that shall go,' Legolas pleaded as he stood before his parent inside Thranduil's private chamber. 'You know Calanon has said that my skills have surpassed even his with the bow, and I shall take the greatest care should we happen upon the enemy.'

Looking down into his son's beseeching eyes the Elvenking could not find it within himself to deny the request. Legolas had become quite restless of late and was frequently desiring to join the groups that travelled to the south to eliminate each new nest of spiders as they appeared.

 _Perhaps fighting these Orcs shall satisfy his desire to do battle_ , Thranduil thought, _and I had rather his first time in real combat be against those creatures rather than the foul offspring of Ungoliant._

'Very well, you have my leave to go,' he announced, 'however, Gildoron shall accompany you as your advisor. Heed his words should the enemy prove to be greater in number than reported.'

His eyes bright with anticipation Legolas said, 'I promise I shall listen to him, and I will be careful. Thank you, Father.'

Then Thranduil watched as his only son hurriedly bowed and rushed away to gather the other members of his group. Alone once more, the Elvenking sat down beside the table where Legolas had dropped the wreath of flowers from his hair, and closed his eyes.

'O Elbereth, watch over him and grant him good judgement.'

The quiet prayer was to become like the beat of his heart over the next several days – constant and never-ending – until Legolas returned.

O * O

When news arrived on the tenth day that Legolas' party had successfully vanquished the band of Orcs and was making their way home, all who lived within the Elvenking's palace breathed a sigh of relief, for their king's taciturn manner as he worried over his son's safety had created a solemn atmosphere within his halls that none dared to break.

Unfortunately, on the day the group was to return to the palace a rather delicate issue arose that required Thranduil's urgent attention. A rather overly merry Elf had claimed he had the greatest skill in singing, and then proceeded to demonstrate his talent to his friends by serenading various young maidens outside their homes – including one who was recently betrothed and who had been in a state of undress when he appeared outside her window! Needless to say, her father and her intended husband had not been at all impressed with his skill and had brought him straight to the king. Consequently, when Legolas and his party returned they were greeted in the great hall by Eraisuithan and Eglerion, whilst Thranduil dealt with the penitent and rather embarrassed Elf in a private chamber.

Upon having resolved the issue of the singing Elf to the satisfaction of the injured parties, Thranduil made his way swiftly toward the great hall – being quite anxious to see with his own eyes that his son had made it home safely and unscathed. Only when he arrived he found the vast room empty of both his son and the usual gathering of Elves.

'Legolas?'

The Elvenking's loud call echoed throughout the great halls and down the nearby passageways that were also eerily still and silent.

His brow furrowed in puzzlement at the strange absence of both his son and all his courtiers, Thranduil began to walk toward the antechamber that lay behind his throne when his sharp ears caught the faint sound of shifting material brushing against hard stone; the small whisper sounding out like a loud squall in the empty silence.

Glancing toward the source of the noise, Thranduil's keen gaze immediately fixed upon the small figure of a female child as she huddled in the small shadowed space beneath his throne. Images of Legolas hiding in the same place in his youth instantly came to mind, and with a faint smile on his lips, the Elvenking began to walk slowly toward his throne, saying in light dejected tones, 'now here is a strange thing for a king to find: all his subjects gone and no one to speak with him. O what a sad day for me. I shall have to sit here in this great room all alone and speak to myself.'

Reaching his throne, the golden haired Elf sank down onto the top step of the dais, rested his staff by his side, and stared up at the ceiling as he sighed. 'And all those feasts I had planned!' he announced sadly, 'I will have to eat all the food myself, although it shall make me as round and fat as a well-fed pig.'

A muffled giggle greeted his last words, and Thranduil made a show of being surprised by the sound before turning to lay down on the ground and peer under his throne. A pair of green eyes in a small delicate face gazed right back at him from the shadows.

'Hullo there little one,' he said gently. 'Art thou a little spirit come to keep me company?'

The child shook her head with another giggle.

'No? Perhaps then you are one of the little stars fallen down from the night sky?'

Her laughter ringing out clearly this time, the young child declared, 'I'm not a star. I'm an Elf like you!'

'Are you indeed!' Thranduil exclaimed in playful astonishment. 'I do beg your pardon for not identifying you as one. But may I enquire why you are huddled beneath my chair? Do you seek to make it your home?'

'Don't be silly,' the girl said with all the candour of the very young. 'You can't live under a chair! I'm hiding!'

'You have chosen an admirable place in which to conceal yourself,' Thranduil complimented her with suitable gravity in his voice. 'But from what horrible creature do you hide?'

'They're not horrible creatures,' came the girl's reply. 'A very pretty Elf found me in the woods and brought me here. He said his father would help me, but then when we came I got bored waiting for his father to come and crept under here when they all started talking. I don't think they're very good at playing games because none of them looked for me here. They all just hurried out of the room. But I am very good at being quiet,' she declared proudly. 'Mother says I am the sneakiest child. She told me in the woods I was to be very sneaky and hide until she came back for me. I hid for the longest time, but she never came to find me. The pretty Elf heard me when I slipped and cut my hand climbing out of the tree. He put some special leaves on it and made it all better. Look!'

Obeying the command, Thranduil glanced at the small hand thrust out toward him and noticed the faint scar that ran across the palm.

'It must have hurt a great deal,' he observed quietly.

'I cried and cried,' the girl admitted honestly. 'I was very hungry and I wanted my mother.'

'And she must be quite worried about you, dear child,' Thranduil answered. 'I shall certainly do my best to help you, but do you think you could now come out from your hiding place and sit here next to me? I am sure we shall both find it more comfortable than our present positions.'

The girl considered the proposal for a moment before nodding. 'All right,' she agreed, and began to slowly slide out backward from under the throne – her movements clearly hampered by her long green dress. 'You were better than all the others at finding me, even though you must be really old. I've never seen an Elf use a stick to walk before, only a really old man with long white hair growing on his face. I met him near the edge of the forest one evening. He wore a funny blue hat shaped like the top of a mountain, and had a long grey cloak. He also made colourful lights dance along the ground. I tried to catch them, but they kept disappearing. I think he was teasing me.'

Identifying his friend Mithrandir from the child's description, Thranduil smiled at her last statement, which coincided with her head finally making its appearance from under his throne. When his eyes beheld her hair for the first time in the light, Thranduil's eyes widened. The colour was a shade that had only been seen rarely in those of elven descent: a dark auburn colour that flashed with tongues of flame.

As the girl turned to face him, Thranduil realised in some amusement that she was similarly struck by the radiant hue of his own golden hair.

'Your hair's so shiny!' Her green eyes wide in innocent admiration, the child tilted her head to the side and then smiled. 'It's very lovely!'

'As is yours.'

Crawling across the small space between them, the rather bold and talkative elfling sighed as she complained, 'I don't like it. I would rather have hair like yours.'

'Come, child, the colour of your hair is a special gift,' Thranduil informed her kindly. 'Each strand is unique to yourself, and would you deny others the pleasure of its fiery brilliance?'

'Maybe,' came the honest reply. 'I wanted to cut it off, but Father would not permit Mother to do it.'

'I am thankful to hear that your father does not lack for sense,' Thranduil said with a small smile. 'Now child, we have become quite good friends, and yet I do not know your name.'

'I'm called Tauriel.'

'A most beautiful name, and one that suits you. Can you tell me how old you are?'

Tauriel closed her eyes in thought for a moment. Then upon reopening them, she declared, 'this is my fourth summer. Father promised I could go to one of the feasts this year.'

'Then we must ensure that you get to one,' Thranduil replied.

Looking up from where her attention had been caught by the sparkling ring on his finger, Tauriel asked curiously, 'will you be there?'

'Perhaps. I cannot always make it out to all the feasts of my people. There are so many of you.'

At these words a small frown gathered on Tauriel's pale forehead. 'I forgot. You said that you're a king. Does that mean I shouldn't be talking to you?'

'No, dear child, it does not.'

'Good, because I like talking to you.'

At this artless declaration Thranduil was unable to contain the merry laugh that rose to his lips. The happy sound carried throughout the passageways and reached the ears of a particular fair-haired Elf.

Without waiting for his companions, Legolas swiftly followed the sound back to its source in the great hall. Upon entering through the large doors he halted abruptly in astonishment at the sight that greeted him: his proud father was seated on the step in front of his throne, whilst beside him sat the tiny child from the forest.

'Father! Tauriel!'

His voice drawing their attention, both Thranduil and Tauriel looked up to see Legolas staring at them.

'It's the pretty Elf.'

At Tauriel's whispered comment as she hid her face shyly behind her hair, Thranduil had to sternly suppress an amused smile. His son had certainly gained another admirer. Then seeing Eglerion and several other Elves enter the great hall behind his son, Thranduil had to reluctantly concede that his entertaining conversation with the child would need to be postponed.

Rising to his feet, Thranduil heard Tauriel follow him as he straightened to his full height. Upon hearing her gasp, however, he paused and turned to look down to where she stood beside him with her head barely reaching his knees. Her wide eyes staring up at him, Tauriel marvelled, 'you're a giant!'

And indeed, to her very small height the Elvenking supposed he must appear to be one.

'I am a tad bit shorter than one,' he murmured. Then, aware of the tiny legs behind him, he measured his steps to match Tauriel's pace as he walked toward his son; fully aware of the dainty little hand that had clasped onto his trailing robes.

Legolas, who had already crossed most of the room, paused when he drew near his father and bowed.

'Legolas, I had hoped to be the first to greet you as you returned,' Thranduil said apologetically, and embraced his son warmly. 'I am pleased to see you have taken no hurt in your battle with the Orcs. Although I had not heard you had discovered a fair little companion to accompany you on the journey back.'

'I had thought it best to leave the explanation until after I arrived,' Legolas replied quietly, his voice unusually solemn. 'I am sorry if Tauriel surprised you, Father. We have been searching for her since she disappeared whilst we were talking of the events in the forest to Eraisuithan.'

Any response Thranduil was going to make to his son's words was forestalled by Tauriel's loud whisper of, 'are you the pretty elf's father?'

'Yes, child. I do have the honour of being "the pretty elf's" father.'

Observing the faint blush that arose in Legolas' cheeks at the girl's description of him, Thranduil lowered his head to conceal his small smile and looked down to where Tauriel was gazing up at him in delight.

'He didn't tell me he was a prince!' she cried. 'He said he's my friend. I've never had a prince for a friend before!'

'I am sure you will find that princes are just like other friends,' came the Elvenking's amused response. Then, his voice assuming a more serious tone, Thranduil lowered himself until he was almost kneeling on the floor, and said, 'now, Tauriel, you said my son brought you here so that I may help you. Is that right?'

Tauriel nodded.

'He spoke truly, and I shall help you, little one,' he assured her. 'However, he will need to tell me first what else he did in the forest. Now that will be very boring for you and I believe you must be very hungry. Your stomach has been growling like an angry bear.'

A tiny giggle escaped Tauriel's mouth at his last words. 'I am hungry,' she agreed, and placed a hand over her stomach that chose that moment to release another loud growl.

'Then we must ensure you receive a most delicious meal,' Thranduil declared. 'I shall have some very nice people take you to have your dinner, and then we will talk again. Would you like that?'

Tauriel thought it over quickly before nodding. However, after a brief, shy glance in Legolas' direction, she added in a charming attempt to whisper discretely, 'can he come get me?'

'I shall order him to fetch you myself,' Thranduil promised with a becoming lack of levity, although the dancing light in his blue eyes betrayed his enjoyment at Tauriel's innocent adoration for his son. 'Eglerion.'

At the mention of his name, Thranduil's old friend came forward, bestowed a friendly smile at Tauriel, and then gave a magnificent bow. 'Yes, O Great King, how may I serve thee?'

Realising from Eglerion's playful display that the Elf was fully devoted to diverting Tauriel's attention whilst he heard Legolas' report, Thranduil replied in his grandest manner, 'Tauriel is our guest, and a feast must be held in her honour. Pray escort her to the dining hall and ensure only the best dishes are served to her. Summon forth our best minstrels and let them sing only those songs that shall bring a smile to her face.'

Feeling Tauriel pull gently on his robes, Thranduil again looked down at his tiny guest.

'Spiced plum tarts are my favourite,' the young elf informed him earnestly. 'May I have those too?'

'Indeed you may,' Thranduil said, 'you must be sure to tell them how many you would like.'

Her eyes bright with glee, Tauriel released her hold on Thranduil's robes and danced across to where Eglerion was standing. Reaching up she caught his hand in hers and cried happily, 'do you like spiced plum tarts too?'

Knowing his friend's deep aversion to eating that particular dessert, Thranduil could only admire Eglerion's noble sacrifice when he declared quite gaily, 'I adore them! They have such delicious flavours that entice my appetite. Come, let us go find some. Farewell, O King, we shall attend upon thee again soon!'

And with Tauriel's light voice crying out her own goodbyes, the other Elves in the great hall watched as the tall fair-haired Elf gently led his charge out the door by the hand.

'By your leave, O King, we shall withdraw as well.'

Glancing at the remaining Elves, and surmising from their rather dishevelled appearance that they had participated in the lengthy search for Tauriel, Thranduil inclined his head. 'You have performed your duties well, good people. Go now and enjoy the feast. I am sure our little guest will welcome your merry presence.'

As one the Elves all bowed their thanks. Then, with their fair voices bursting into a rather nonsensical song about plum tarts and other tasty morsels, they turned about and left in a cheerful chorus.

Into the silence that fell upon the great hall, the Elvenking turned toward Legolas and said with all his previous mirth absent from his voice, 'your solemn countenance when I greeted you told me your report shall contain ill news, my son. Let us adjourn to my antechamber and you shall rest whilst you inform me of it.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I hope you all enjoyed it. Until next time when Legolas tells Thranduil what happened take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Events brought to Thranduil's attention in letters from Imladris and Lórien**_

These can all be found in the timeline in LOTR. The Nazgûl issued from Mordor in 2000 and Eärnur was lost in 2050. The power of Dol Guldur increased in 2060 and Gandalf went there in 2063. Thorin I left Erebor in 2210 (his father had died in 2190). Also in _LOTR, Appendix A_ can be found the mention that it was Thráin the first who discovered the Arkenstone, NOT Thrór as depicted in the movie. As for that whole nonsense about having the Elvenking pay homage to a dwarf because of a rock they found, I thought that to be absolute rubbish when I first saw that scene! It would be like telling the King of Norway to pay homage to the Queen of England because she possesses the fabulous diamond, the Great Star of Africa, in her crown jewels collection. You can guess what the response would be, and PJ put that scenario into his movie with no basis for it in Tolkien's canon. The only mention of any type of servile behaviour is when Thorin tells his story in _The Hobbit, Chapter 1 – An Unexpected Party_ and he says: "my grandfather was King under the Mountain again, and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South…."

 _ **Red Sky Omen**_

In _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 2 – The Riders of Rohan_ Legolas says: "It is a red dawn. Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called." Apparently to the Elves a red dawn signifies either something good or something bad has happened.

 _ **Tauriel**_

If you didn't like her character in the movie (I'm raising my hand too!) please don't kill me for putting her in! My sole purpose was to tie this story into my very first ( _The Revelation of Truth_ ) where I attempted to restore Thranduil to his former Tolkien glory after they gave Lee Pace that abominable script that mutilated his character – and to do that I had to include scenes with Tauriel.

The finding of Tauriel (of course never mentioned by Tolkien seeing as he didn't invent the character) I've put to be around 2341. It was first mentioned by Peter Jackson's crowd that she was 600 years old at the time of The Hobbit which took place in 2941, and so I went with that despite PJ later saying she is supposed to be over 1000. They also gave her a backstory of having her parents killed by orcs when she was young and it was hinted that Thranduil took care of her after she was found (which incidentally makes her attempted regicidal actions in the movie all the more despicable!).

Also, the red hair to which Thranduil refers as being "rarely seen" is that belonging to Nerdanel's kin. This is referenced in _The History of Middle-Earth, The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Part 2, Chapter 11 – The Shibboleth of Fëanor_ where it says of Nerdanel's children: "These two names of [the] twins (i-Wenyn) were evidently meant to begin similarly. Ambarussa 'top-russet' must have referred to hair: the first and last of Nerdanel's children had the reddish hair of her kin." Now whether PJ & co were trying to imply that somehow Tauriel was actually a child born of Nerdanel's line (therefore a Noldo and not Silvan) we shall never know. Honestly, I think they just decided that red hair would make the character stand out and didn't give all that much thought to the background of that particular hair colour in Tolkien's world of Elves.

 _ **Elven Children**_

As mentioned in my other story _The Providence of Mercy_ Tolkien had this to say about the children of the Elves: "The Eldar grew in bodily form slower than Men, but in mind more swiftly. They learned to speak before they were one year old; and in the same time they learned to walk and to dance, for their wills came soon to the mastery of their bodies. Nonetheless there was less difference between the two Kindreds, Elves and Men, in early youth; and a man who watched elf-children at play might well have believed that they were the children of Men…at the end of the third year mortal children began to outstrip the Elves, hastening on to full stature while the Elves lingered in the first spring of childhood. Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in body like to mortals of no more than seven years. Not until the fiftieth year did the Eldar attain the stature and shape in which their lives would afterwards endure, and for some a hundred years would pass before they were full-grown." _The History of Middle-earth, Morgoth's Ring, Part 3 – The Later Quenta Silmarillion, The Second Phase, Laws & Customs Among the Eldar_

 _ **Giants**_

Although not used frequently in Tolkien's world he did mention them. They are mentioned a few times in _The Hobbit_ , in particular who could forget the great stone giants throwing massive rocks at each other! And in _The History of Middle-earth, Lost Book of Tales Part 1, Gilfanon's Tale_ there is mention of how in one early manuscript by Tolkien giants were counted among the Úvanimor, servants of Melko (the early version of Melkor, or as he became known by the Elves - Morgoth).


	13. The Darkness Spreads

**AUTHOR NOTE:** I cannot believe it has almost been a month since I last updated this story! I am so, so sorry! I had a bit of a set-back in my recovery and really didn't feel like going near the computer.

To all the folk with ties to the Emerald Isle I hope you all had a very happy St Patrick's Day. I very proudly wore my green dress and sighed when no pot o' gold could be found in my garden.

Thank you to those who have continued to read the story, and to the new readers who have added it or myself to your favourite/follow list you have my deepest thanks. And of course, a special word of gratitude goes out to **PegasusWingsVW** for your extremely wonderful and warm review of the last chapter. I dedicate this chapter to you! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 13 – The Darkness Spreads**_

Having made their way to the hidden entrance of the antechamber that lay behind the Elvenking's large wooden throne, Thranduil and Legolas entered the much cosier room where several comfortable chairs were placed before a cheerful fire that blazed in a small hearth.

'Be seated, Legolas,' Thranduil urged quietly, and stepped over toward a tall stone jar of water, which was placed inside a small alcove. Using a wooden bowl he withdrew some of the water and then handed the bowl to his son. 'Drink this first, and then we shall talk.'

Gratefully accepting the offered water, Legolas put the bowl to his lips and drank deeply. When he had finished the drink, Thranduil retrieved the bowl, placed it back near the stone jar and then sat down himself.

'Now, I am aware that all members of your party survived your encounter with the Orcs, so tell me what occurred in the forest that caused such a shadow of sadness in your eyes,' he said gently.

His fair elvish face grave in his distress, Legolas suddenly cried out, 'surely you must know, Father! Tauriel would have told you the same tale of her mother ordering her to hide that she revealed to me. Do not make me speak of it!'

Compassion filled Thranduil's eyes as he regarded his son. 'I certainly have come to a rather unpleasant conclusion as to the fate of her parents,' he agreed, 'however, I shall need the confirmation from you, Legolas. I do not seek to cause you more pain, my child, but I must know the facts in order to decide what is to become of the little one. Also, you have just experienced your first real battle and I know how the horrors of that can linger inside your mind unless you speak of it to someone. Please, Legolas, tell me what happened.'

For a long time after Thranduil finished speaking nothing but silence greeted his request. Then, with his gaze fixed upon the dancing flames in the hearth, Legolas began speaking in a low voice.

'The Elves who were attacked were members of a smaller community that lived near the East Bight. When we reached them we found only two still alive. Both were grievously wounded and had fallen under the body of the last Orc they had slain. Fifteen of our people lay dead and we were told the Orcs had carried off several others. I ordered a few of my party to burn the bodies of the Orcs, bury our dead and then to remain with the injured. The rest of our group then pursued the band of Orcs southward until we caught up with them as they made camp in the Silver Valley.

'Gildoron, being familiar with that area, advised of which strategy would work to our advantage, and so we fought them under the light of a cold moon. It did not take long for our greater numbers to overwhelm them. We burnt their carcases amidst the tall silver birch trees that they had been mutilating with their axes. Their four prisoners were bound with tight cords around their wrists and ankles. All had endured the worst of torments in the days they were at the mercy of their captors, especially the only lady among them – although, not even her husband could speak of what she had suffered. We could do little to ease their suffering, and eventually they all succumbed to their injuries. We buried their bodies in a small clearing.

'Before she died the lady told me of her daughter, Tauriel, whom she had bidden to hide before the attack came upon them. She said they had no other family as all had been lost in the horror at Dagorlad. I swore that I would find the child and bring her to you.

'After burying their bodies we returned to the place of the attack. The two survivors we had in our care did not know where the child had gone. We searched for hours until I heard her cry out. She had slipped whilst climbing out of the tree she had perched in since the day of the attack, and the cut on her hand was quite deep. Using the knowledge her mother had given me about her I convinced the child to come with me to see you.'

Pausing in his story to draw a tremulous breath, Legolas then finally looked again at his father as he admitted, 'Tauriel wants your help to look for her parents. I – I could not tell her the truth, Father! I tried, but then I would see the innocence in her eyes and I could not bear to be the one who destroyed it. How could I tell her that both her parents now lie cold beneath the ground? A place that no Elf should ever be! Gildoron then offered to do it, but how could I permit him to do something that I myself knew was my responsibility? For was it not I who had promised her mother that I would ensure Tauriel was safe? I, who held her mother's hand as she died? I knew it to be my duty, and yet even now she still believes them to be alive in the forest. How? Tell me how, Father! How do I find the words to tell a child that her parents are dead?'

At this last despairing cry from his son, Thranduil could no longer restrain himself. Rising swiftly from his chair he hurried toward Legolas and embraced him. Feeling the warmth of his father surrounding him, the young elf pressed his face against Thranduil's stomach and wept; his tears not only for Tauriel's loss, but for the memory of his own and his father's. He was also only now beginning to comprehend how his father must have dreaded to be the one to inform him of his mother's death.

For a long while Thranduil did not move, save only to gently smooth a hand over his son's hair. Finally, when he felt the overwhelming grief of his son lessen, he pulled back slightly to look down into Legolas' face. With tears still glistening in his eyes like watery stars, Legolas appeared more like that small babe he had held in his arms so many centuries ago than the skilled warrior he was becoming. Thranduil felt his heart ache at the thought.

'Father, I am sorry for my outburst. I did not believe I would lose control of my emotions and behave in such a manner.'

At his son's softly spoken words, the Elvenking raised his hand and tenderly placed it against one of Legolas' damp cheeks.

'You have borne this painful burden inside you for several days, Legolas,' he said kindly. 'The weight of it would have pressed upon your gentle spirit until the pressure needed to be relieved. Therefore, there is no need to apologise to me. You have done well, my son.'

Legolas shook his head. 'I do not think so, Father. At least, I feel as though I have failed! That those lives lost are due to something I neglected to do.'

Thranduil sighed, and in his eyes was a deeply remembered pain. 'Such is the feeling of all who live to see such evil. But you cannot control the actions of others, Legolas, nor can you will it so that all those precious to you are forever safe. All you can do is use what gifts you possess to defend those whom you love to the best of your ability.'

For a moment Legolas said nothing. Then, his expression hardening with resolve, he declared, 'then shall I use my skill with the bow to destroy the enemy before they can take the life of one more of our people.'

Tilting his head to gaze determinedly at his father, he said, 'I wish to lead my own patrol group in the forest. Any Orc or spider that crosses our path we will eliminate. Wait, I know what you will say, Father,' he added, upon seeing a frown appear on Thranduil's face. 'You have never wanted me put in danger, and I sense you only permitted me to go fight the Orcs on this occasion because you hoped I would discover that battle is not a game to be enjoyed. I understand why you have protected me, and you were correct in what I would discover. But, I also found I cannot permit you and our people to be the only ones to defend our realm. Although battle is not glorious, I want to fight to protect our home and our people. Please, Father, you said we must each use our gifts to defend those whom we love. Let me use my gifts to defend you, just as you have used yours to safeguard me and all our people.'

A long silence descended upon the room after Legolas finished speaking; the quiet broken only by the crackle of burning wood in the fire. In the distance could be heard the merry singing of the Wood-Elves as they entertained Tauriel at the feast.

At length the silence was broken when Thranduil lowered his head in defeated acceptance. 'To refuse your request is to render my own words of counsel meaningless. Therefore, you may form your own patrol group, my son.'

Aware of the heartache and worry this decision had caused his father, Legolas promised, 'I will never be reckless in my patrols, Father. You have my word that I will always come back home to you.'

'That is all that I can ask,' Thranduil replied.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed Legolas' face. 'Tauriel!' he exclaimed upon remembering the child. 'What is to become of her? And how am I to tell her of her parents' fate?'

'There is room enough in this palace for her,' Thranduil informed him calmly, 'and I am sure your old nurse Raina shall enjoy having another child to coddle and spoil. Also, do not trouble your mind further about how you are to inform her of her parents' deaths. That task must fall to myself. However, I would suggest you be present when I tell her, for the child seems inordinately fond of you already and you may be able to give comfort to her.'

'It is not right, Father, that you should be the one to deliver such grim news to her,' Legolas objected.

'What is not right, my son, is that another child has been orphaned in my realm,' Thranduil stated sombrely. 'Bring her to me once the feast has ended and she has rested. I shall have a chamber prepared and fresh garments laid out for her. You also should seek some rest, for your spirit has been greatly wearied by sorrow. Go, Legolas, and I shall speak to you and Tauriel when you are both refreshed.'

Obediently rising to his feet, Legolas hesitated for a brief moment before he suddenly stepped forward and tightly embraced his parent.

'I do love you, Father,' he whispered. 'I could not bear it if I ever lost you.'

Blinking away the tears that had gathered in his eyes, Thranduil returned the embrace and placed a soft kiss onto the top of his son's head. 'Just as I could not bear it if I lost you,' he said, his voice choked with emotion. 'You are my beloved son and to lose you would be to lose the light of the world. Please be careful, Legolas, and be ever on your guard when you leave the safety of these halls.'

'I shall be as constant in my vigilance as Eärendil is constant in his travels across the sky,' Legolas vowed softly, and after tightening his arms once more about his father's waist, he slowly pulled away. 'I will now pay heed to your other words and seek rest until my mind and heart are at peace again.'

'May your rest be untroubled and blessed.'

Then, as Legolas took loving leave of his father and walked from the room, Thranduil turned and observed gravely to the burning fire, 'and let us hope the child shall receive the grace to endure the sorrow she must hear on the morrow.'

O * O

After she had been made aware of the ill-fate of her parents, it became apparent to Thranduil that Tauriel would more than just endure the sorrow of her loss. As he observed her over the years that followed, the Elvenking knew that a change had come over the flame-haired child when the truth was finally revealed to her: a grim resolve had been born which had gradually frozen the tears in her eyes and turned them to shards of ice. As she grew older her gaiety and playful nature was seldom seen as she focused on honing her skills with the bow and blade; her hatred of the Orcs almost consuming any spark of joy in her. Her early devotion to Legolas that had led Thranduil to refer to her as his son's little shadow, had also evolved until it seemed only a warrior's admiration for a skilled commander and friend.

By the time a hundred years had passed, and the dark shadow had engulfed Dol Guldur once more, Tauriel was one of the most ruthless fighters in the castle guard. Thus, when Thranduil was invited to attend the first meeting of the White Council, which would require his leaving his realm for a short period of time, he did not hesitate to assign her to his son's patrol. Knowing that Legolas would be accompanied by such a fierce guard when he journeyed out into the forest brought the Elvenking some measure of comfort.

As the years continued to pass and her skills continued to grow, Thranduil's careful watch over the orphaned child he had taken in to protect began to lessen. His attention was also increasingly drawn to the troubling news from the south. When the word came of Elrond's wife Celebrían being captured by Orcs, Tauriel had become as one with his other subjects: a life that he would still serve and protect as their king, but a life that did not require his ongoing personal attention. Only one would now once again receive that distinction – his son.

During the time he spent away from Mirkwood to lend aid in the search for Celebrían, Thranduil never failed to receive regular messages from Legolas assuring him that he was unharmed and that the protections around the forest continued to hold. Afterwards, when he joined his forces with Celeborn's and the Dúnedain led by Arahad to hunt down the Orcs that had so grievously tortured Celebrían in their den, the messages became more frequent – as though Legolas knew his father would require greater reassurance in the face of such a constant reminder of the evils that threatened his realm and his son. When Thranduil finally departed from Imladris to return home, after having spent three months lending his support to Elrond and Celeborn, the messages from Legolas had become so regular that the birds who delivered them had their own allocated perch in Arwen's garden.

In the centuries that followed Thranduil's return to Mirkwood a disturbing sequence of events increased his fears for the safety of not only his son, but his entire realm. Calenardhon in the south became overrun with Orcs and Easterlings; the shadow in Dol Guldur continued to grow in power; and, their strength renewed and in great numbers, the dragons of the north reappeared – their cold hearts attracted by the vast treasure hoard of the Dwarves in the Grey Mountains!

Then came the day when news arrived that King Dáin had been killed by a great cold-drake at the very door of his hall, and that his son and heir, Thrór, had returned to the empty halls of Erebor with a company of his people. Thranduil received the tidings with a grim expression and immediately strengthened the protective enchantments on his northern borders, for in his mind lingered the dread memory of the destructive power of the dragons that was revealed during the War of Wrath.

An envoy was also sent to King Thrór from the Elvenking, bearing a civil greeting and a message offering condolences for the loss suffered by their people. But also contained within the missive was a polite section urging the new king to remember the dangers associated with allowing their treasure hoard to become so great as to attract the notice of a dragon. Needless to say, a reply was sent back thanking Thranduil for his greetings and words of condolence, along with an offer to renew the old agreement made between himself and King Thráin, but no heed was taken of his warning, and the great treasure stores of Erebor began to be filled once more.

Over the next century and a half, the Elvenking's unease grew with every new tale of the increasing wealth of the Dwarves as they delved deeper and deeper underground. The value of the goods and treasure that the Dwarves made, and which passed through the new city of Dale and his realm, certainly gave credence to the tales. But though the tolls from this tremendous magnitude of traffic significantly swelled his own wealth, Thranduil could not help but worry at the growing danger associated with it. And added to all this was the fact that the necklace of his beloved wife continued to remain unfound. Indeed, Thranduil had begun to believe it had never been hidden within the Mountain and its location would forever remain a mystery.

But then came a day when the autumn leaves had begun to fall, and a message was carried into the realm of Mirkwood requesting the Elvenking's presence in the Great Hall of Erebor.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you feel so inclined please feel free to use the little comment box down below and let me know if there's a particular thing you like, or if there is an area where I can improve. If you're shy, and don't feel like doing that, then that's OK too. So long as you keep enjoying the story that's the important thing! :) Until next time, when Thranduil ventures forth to Erebor via Dale, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Silver Valley**_

This location is not mentioned at all by Tolkien in case you were wondering. I just needed a name and decided that since it would be full of silver birch trees I'd just call it Silver Valley. :) The East Bight, however is definitely mentioned by Tolkien and can be found on the second map in LOTR.

 _ **The White Council**_

I know there is some argument between people as to whether Thranduil was involved in the White Council as he is never specifically mentioned as being a member. In fact, in _The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power_ it just says that when the shadow returned to Dol Guldur "in that time was first made the Council of the Wise that is called the White Council, and therein were Elrond and Galadriel and Círdan, and other lords of the Eldar, and with them were Mithrandir and Curunír (Saruman)."

I believe that Thranduil would have been one of the "other lords of the Eldar" given he is the ruler of the largest kingdom of Elves on Middle-earth, he would have been exposed to the wisdom of Thingol and Melian in Doriath, and he had been involved in the previous battles against Sauron. Plus, can you see Celeborn and Elrond snubbing an Elf that Tolkien himself described as one of the Sindarin Princes?

 _ **Celebrían**_

Celebrían's sad tale can be read in _Lord of the Rings, Appendix A (iii) Eriador, Arnor, & the Heirs of Isildur_

 _ **Dwarves & Dragons**_

 _LOTR – Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age:_ "2570 – About this time Dragons reappear in the far North and begin to afflict the Dwarves. 2589 – Dáin I slain by a Dragon. 2590 – Thrór returns to Erebor."

 _LOTR, Appendix A, Durin's Folk_ goes into greater detail about the events, and it says that after Durin's Folk left Erebor to go to the Grey Mountains, the dragons in the wastes beyond after many years "became strong again and multiplied, and they made war on the Dwarves, and plundered their works. At last Dáin I, together with Frór his second son, was slain at the door of his hall by a great cold-drake. Not long after most of Durin's Folk abandoned the Grey Mountains…Thrór, Dáin's heir, with Borin his father's brother and the remainder of the people returned to Erebor. To the Great Hall of Thráin, Thrór brought back the Arkenstone, and he and his folk prospered and became rich…."

 _ **The War of Wrath & Dragons**_

 _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 24 – Of the Voyage of Eärendil & the War of Wrath: _"But at the last the might of Valinor came up out of the West, and the challenge of the trumpets of Eönwë filled the sky; and Beleriand was ablaze with the glory of their arms…and the mountains rang beneath their feet. The meeting of the hosts of the West and of the North is named the Great Battle, and the War of Wrath…and all the North was aflame with war…Then seeing that his hosts were overthrown and his power dispersed, Morgoth quailed, and he dared not to come forth himself. But he loosed upon his foes the last desperate assault that he had prepared, and out of the pits of Angband there issued the winged dragons, that had not before been seen; and so sudden and ruinous was the onset of that dreadful fleet that the host of the Valar was driven back, for the coming of the dragons was with great thunder, and lightning, and a tempest of fire. But Eärendil came…[he] slew Ancalagon the Black, the mightiest of the dragon-host, and cast him from the sky…the host of the Valar prevailed, and well-nigh all the dragons were destroyed…so great was the fury of those adversaries that the northern regions of the western world were rent asunder, and the sea roared in through many chasms, and there was confusion and great noise; and rivers perished or found new paths, and the valleys were upheaved and the hills trod down; and Sirion was no more."

It is possible that this is where Thranduil is supposed to have received his scars from dragon fire as depicted in PJ's movie, but for my story Thranduil is unscarred (physically at least) from this battle – mainly because it says in the same source that when the host of the Valar marched to the north of Middle-earth "among them went none of those Elves who had dwelt and suffered in the Hither Lands". But given the scale of the battle and how most of Beleriand was destroyed by the war, it would have been possible for Thranduil and the other elves to encounter the occasional dragon who made its way down to where they were in the south.

 _ **Dale**_

The city of Dale was said by Thorin Oakenshield in _The Hobbit, Chapter 1 – An Unexpected Party_ to have been built in the time of his grandfather Thrór "by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain." This would seem to contradict a mention in _Unfinished Tales, Part 3 The Third Age, Chapter 2 – Cirion & Eorl _that says after King Narmacil II (who, according to the timeline given in LOTR, died in 1856) was defeated in battle a few of the Northmen "fled over Celduin (River Running) and were merged with the folk of Dale under Erebor". This therefore implies Dale already existed before Thrór was alive (he was born in 2542). For the events of this story I went with the version in _The Hobbit_.


	14. A Journey Through Dale

**AUTHOR NOTE:** I hope you all had a wonderful Easter break. I was aiming to try and have this update done in time for it, but unfortunately, I developed an infection in my wound after I posted the last chapter, which meant two long distance trips to the surgeon, so preparing this chapter got pushed to the side.

To the new readers who have joined us I welcome you most warmly! And as always I want to thank everyone who read the last chapter, along with those who have added the story or myself to your favourite/follow list. :)

This chapter is dedicated to **Silver-crowned Valkyrie** and **AndurilofTolkien**. Your lovely reviews of the last two chapters (and also, AndurilofTolkien, for your reviews of my other story _The Bonds of Friendship_ ) certainly cheered me up, and kept giving me the impetus I needed to plod away at the keyboard to get this one done. I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

 _ **Part 14 – A Journey Through Dale**_

Within his great hall and seated upon his throne, Thranduil lowered the scroll of paper in his hand and gazed at the messenger before him.

'King Thrór writes that he requests my presence in relation to "a matter of great importance",' he announced. 'What light can you shed on this matter for me, Nár, son of Nýr?'

A rather distinguished looking dwarf with a fine grey beard that hung past the silver belt clasped around his wide stomach, rose from his chair and bowed.

'My apologies, O King, but I know not what has prompted this request,' he said politely. 'My companions and I were only instructed to deliver that message to you, and to ensure it was handed to you alone.'

'And you have performed your task well,' Thranduil complimented him in the courteous manner of the Elves. Then rising from his throne, the Elvenking declared, 'we are willing to agree to your king's request, and shall make preparations to leave on the morrow at first light. You and your companions, Master Dwarf, are welcome to remain within my halls as our guests for the night if it please you to do so. Our first autumn feast shall take place this evening, so you will find many dishes to your liking I am sure.'

A glimmer of delighted eagerness shone in the dwarf's eyes at the prospect of a hearty meal. Bowing low once again, he answered, 'I have heard it is a fine table you keep, O King, and glad we will be to share in it.'

Permitting a small smile to grace his lips, Thranduil turned to the Elf that stood near the dais and said, 'Eraisuithan, pray conduct our guests to their chambers. Have food and drink provided to them as well, for I am sure they are wearied from their long journey.'

As the Dwarves led by Nár followed the tall Elf from the great hall, Thranduil's smile vanished and he glanced again at the letter in his hand.

'Why do you suppose he wishes to see you, Father?'

At Legolas' quiet voice beside him, Thranduil frowned in thought. 'I do not know,' he admitted. 'He uses such strange, enigmatical phrasing that his intent in requesting my presence is obscure. If the matter was grave in nature, were there a vast host of Orcs marching upon the Mountain, then one would conclude he would be specific in the reason for desiring a meeting.'

'Perhaps he wishes to seek counsel from you?'

This comment from his son drew a genuine laugh from the Elvenking. 'Nay, my child. The day is sure to never come when a dwarf shall willingly seek counsel from Thranduil, son of Oropher.'

His expression puzzled, Legolas asked, 'then why, if you are unsure of the purpose for his request, did you agree to go?'

'Curiosity,' Thranduil answered simply. 'Lord Celeborn would say it is one attribute I have possessed all my life that has been both a curse and a blessing. I would know why Thrór, who has never before sought a meeting, now appears anxious to have me journey to Erebor to meet with him in his own halls.'

'When you go may I accompany you to the meeting?'

Having considered the question for a brief moment, Thranduil finally shook his head. 'Although nothing in the letter, nor the messenger's manner, give me cause to believe the Dwarves desire nothing more than to speak with me, I cannot risk the possible danger to you should things go poorly between us during the meeting.'

Legolas' eyes widened. 'They would try to harm you?' he cried.

'History has shown that their race would not hesitate to do so should the mood strike them,' Thranduil replied, 'which is why you shall remain here, and I shall endeavour to pay them every courtesy whilst in their halls.'

'But if they should seek to harm you –'

'I shall not be so foolish as to appear before a company of Dwarves unarmed,' Thranduil said grimly. 'And the walls of Erebor are of the same earth whence came the ancient oak whose branch was carved into the staff I now hold. As a blade will shatter under sufficient force, so too will stone crumble when it is struck with enough power. Some of the Royal Guard shall also accompany me, and they are all of them warriors who have survived a great number of battles.'

Despite this reassurance a look of distress still lingered in Legolas' eyes. Upon seeing this, Thranduil added gently, 'Dwarves can sometimes be quite unreasonable and abrupt in their manner, and I can now only endure so much when dealing with them; but there has been no quarrel between us, and they have no cause to do violence to me, my son, and I shall give them none. This I promise you.'

And as his father had never be known to break his word, Legolas' fear subsided – at least for the present moment! The next morning as he watched his father depart, the majestic elk they had saved whilst out hunting in the forest proudly bearing him on its back, the Elf-prince of Mirkwood could not quell the sense of unease he felt stirring inside his heart that whispered the meeting would not end well.

O * O

The city of Dale was in a flurry of excitement. The morning had dawned with the green banners of the Elvenking fluttering in the far distance as the golden-haired Elf approached the bustling town with a grand retinue of Wood-Elves, the fair folk's merry singing carrying lightly on the breeze with a charm that surpassed the most beautiful birdsong. All the citizens, many of whom had never before seen the Elf-lord, rushed eagerly to the main street, anxious not to miss a sight they may never have the opportunity to see again in their lifetime.

And foremost among them was Girion, the new Lord of Dale.

The tall young nobleman stood proudly erect at the entrance to the city arrayed in his finest garments; his dark hair and beard neatly trimmed; and around his neck lay a magnificent necklace comprised of five hundred emeralds that shone brilliantly in the bright daylight.

As the Elves drew nigh and began to cross the low stone bridge that lay before the main gate, Girion called out warmly, 'Hail, O Elvenking! Welcome once more to Dale! It has been many years since last you were seen in these parts.'

At a signal from their king the Elves halted, then waited in silence as Thranduil gracefully dismounted from his elk. As the Elf-king turned to face him, Girion's eyes widened – he had not realised the Elf would be so tall! And with his crown of berries and red leaves, fine silver-green robe, and staff of carven oak, Thranduil was quite an imposing figure as he walked forward to greet the man.

'Good morning, Girion, Lord of Dale,' he said, 'I believe when last I came it was your grandfather who welcomed me and you were a mere babe held in your mother's arms.'

'I am honoured that you remember me, O King,' Girion replied with a slight bow. Upon raising his head he caught a glimpse of something in the group behind Thranduil that startled him: coming up through the ranks of Elves were several Dwarves mounted on ponies.

'Lord Nár! Master Dwarves of Erebor! This is another welcome sight!' he cried happily. 'I did not know your business had to do with King Thranduil when last you passed through our city.'

'Our business concerned no one but ourselves,' Nár remarked gruffly. He did not mean to be rude, but for an ageing Dwarf the speed at which Elves travelled was quite exhausting and he was anxious to return to his own bed in the Mountain.

Upon observing the rather embarrassed look on Girion's youthful face when he realised he had inadvertently given offence, Thranduil took pity on the young nobleman and recalled his attention to himself by saying, 'Lord Girion, we are headed toward the Mountain and need to pass through your city. By your leave may we pass through?'

His expression clearing and his spirits restored, Girion beamed. 'With my utmost good will, O King,' he answered. 'And you are arrived in time to hear all the city bells chime the hour.'

'We did hear their sweet sound as we journeyed along the road,' Thranduil observed with a slight smile, 'but we shall enjoy hearing them as their music surrounds us.'

Then he and Girion, followed by the great elk, the Dwarves and Wood-Elves, entered through the main gate to the excited cries and awed faces of Dale's citizens.

The cobbled stones of the wide streets glistened in the sunlight, and the great elk's hooves clattered along them with a dignified _clip clop_ as its large antlers ensured that a clear path was made for the group.

Many of those in the crowd stared in wonder at the sight of the Elves, for though some had occasionally seen several of the fair folk wandering through the nearby woods, never before had they beheld them so finely arrayed. Gone were the plain green and brown garments normally worn by the Wood-Elves for roaming through the forests and glens; and in their place were the richly embroidered ones of the Royal Guard with green and white gems glinting on their collars and belts. All the Elves carried a sword sheathed in a scabbard of elven silver, but while the ones at the front also held a long spear in their hand, those at the rear were clearly bowmen.

However, it was the Elvenking himself who caught and held their attention the longest. His impressive stature as he towered over Lord Girion made him easy to see, and the pure golden radiance of his hair captivated the eyes of the people as he passed before them, for never before had they seen hair of such a shimmering colour.

Approaching the large city square of Dale, Thranduil gazed up to look at the tall fountain that had been built in its centre since his previous visit. A rather ostentatious marvel of precious metal, gems and polished stone, the fountain's clear water sprayed in gentle streams around three life-size gold statues that shone on a raised dais in the middle. The one on the left was a figure of a Dwarf standing proudly with one hand holding up a large jewel; whilst on the right was a Man who held aloft a shimmering sword made from silver with the hilt inlaid with precious stones. And in the middle was an Elf, his face tilted up to gaze at the sky above and holding a flowered wreath in his lowered hand.

'We wished to honour each of the three races within these lands that have helped our city grow,' Girion said, having noticed Thranduil's eyes examining the fountain.

'It is well crafted,' Thranduil acknowledged. Continuing onward he enquired politely after Girion's family.

Unexpectedly, the young man blushed. 'I have recently become betrothed, O King,' he announced. 'We are to be wed in the spring.'

'A happy event that shall be for you and your bride,' Thranduil said with a smile, his blue eyes softened by Girion's obvious pleasure. 'My warmest felicitations, Lord Girion, and may your union be a blessed and fruitful one.'

'O King! Master Elf!'

The high-pitched cry of a child brought the group, and the conversation between Thranduil and Girion, to a halt. Turning toward the sound the Elvenking saw a small boy trying to make his way through the thick wall of people.

'Let the child through.'

At Thranduil's quiet command the crowd quickly parted and the boy ran towards the Elvenking.

'O King, please help me!'

After looking down at the panting boy in front of him, Thranduil surprised everyone when he suddenly knelt down and reached out his hand.

'Give her to me,' he instructed softly.

Without hesitation the boy opened up his clasped hands and revealed a tiny thrush. The little bird lay deathly still.

'She won't sing anymore,' the boy whimpered as he gave his precious burden to Thranduil. 'And she hasn't moved all night.'

'What is her name?'

'Astrid.'

'And yours?'

'It's Bain.'

His expression quite solemn Thranduil said, 'you must love her very much, Master Bain, and I promise I shall do all I can to heal her.'

Lifting the hand that held the bird closer to his face, Thranduil bent his head until his lips were almost touching its body. Then he began to whisper a string of words that flowed like music in his elven-tongue; and to all the citizens of Dale it was as though a pure white light shone about him.

As he witnessed the mesmerising sight and heard the clear sounds of the Elvenking's words, Bain's tears began to dry on his cheeks and he watched in wide-eyed excitement as his pet began to twitch. Soon a low, sweet trill escaped Astrid's beak and both her eyes blinked open.

'She's awake! You healed her!'

Gently returning the bird to her owner, Thranduil observed, 'she drank some unclean water that poisoned her body. Had it remained untreated much longer she would have been beyond my power to heal.'

His brown eyes brimming with joy, Bain looked adoringly at his bird before lifting his gaze to meet Thranduil's.

'Grandmother is always saying Elves have special magic,' he said. 'Thank you for saving her.'

'It was your own action in bringing her hither to me that brought about her healing,' Thranduil said with a smile, and after briefly laying his hand on the boy's head he stood up. 'Now, ere I continue on my journey, please show me the source whence came her water.'

At his words some of the Dwarves began to grumble beneath their breaths, for they were getting anxious to return home. None of the citizens of Dale heard them, as the Dwarves were polite enough to do it very softly; however, their complaints were clearly heard by the Elves, including their king.

Turning toward the leader of the Dwarves, Thranduil informed him, 'Lord Nár, I do not wish to delay your arrival home, so please proceed ahead of us. Pray convey my respects to King Thrór and inform him that I shall follow you presently.'

Greatly relieved at this suggestion the Dwarves all moved forward eagerly, and Nár directed a low bow toward both Thranduil and Girion.

'May wealth and prosperity continue to flourish for you, Lord Girion, and your people,' were his words of farewell to the Lord of Dale, and to the Elvenking, he said, 'we shall inform our king of your coming, King Thranduil.'

Then the Dwarves all departed toward the Mountain, and Bain began to lead the way toward the water source as Thranduil had requested.

It did not take long for the small boy to guide the Elvenking, and most of the crowd for that matter, to the small stream where he gathered the water for his bird. The people of Dale frowned at the sight, for the water appeared normal and not in the least tainted by any foul substance. But Thranduil slowly walked forward and knelt upon the rocky ground. Reaching out his arm he barely touched the water before pulling his hand away.

'Something has entered the water from farther upstream,' he murmured. 'In the mines of Erebor, perhaps. Although still of the earth, it does not belong here.'

And submerging his hand in the water, he closed his eyes and began to chant in elvish – his words a plea to the great Lord of Waters, Ulmo, the Vala who governs all waters, bays and rivers, entreating him to cleanse the water for the sake of the second born children of Ilúvatar.

A long moment passed and then it seemed as though a shimmer of light spread through the stream, travelling both against and with its current; and the water became clearer until its appearance was like the finest crystal.

Another flow of words came from Thranduil's mouth, but this time they were a chant of praise and gratitude to Ulmo for his kindness. Removing his hand from the water the Elvenking stood up, and turning to Bain he told him, 'the water has been cleansed and is now safe for Astrid to drink. You need not fear drawing from this source again.'

Being utterly incapable of speech after having witnessed the mystical purification of the water, Bain could only nod and gaze at Thranduil with wide eyes. Most of the crowd were in a similar state. Only Girion, it seemed, was capable of voicing his thanks, and this he did with many a stumbled word spilling from his lips.

Accepting the Lord of Dale's gratitude with only a slight bow, the Elvenking then declared he must depart and continue onward towards Erebor. 'Else I shall be unpardonably late in arriving and they may bar the door against me,' he finished lightly.

Unfortunately, Girion mistook his playful words for a serious statement and proceeded to assure him that such an occurrence could never happen. 'For they ever have their doors open to all who journey to see them,' he said, 'and they are most generous in their hospitality. They will not deny you admittance, O King.'

Unwilling to prolong the discussion by explaining he meant his words only in jest, Thranduil merely nodded and thanked him for the reassurance. Then, after calling his elk to his side, and with the people of Dale and Girion still escorting him and his people to the city's northern gate, he made for the great mountain of Erebor where King Thrór awaited his arrival.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ What will happen next when Thranduil reaches Erebor? You'll just have to wait and find out. :D

Thanks again for reading, and just a heads up it will probably be another 3 weeks before the next chapter is ready. I have another trip to the surgeon, plus my sister's wedding, to get through, which won't leave much time for one-handed typing. If you get desperate for a Thranduil fix (and you've read all the stories about him on this site) I highly recommend going to YouTube and watching the video "Lee Pace/Thranduil MV: Memories" by Suki Wong. Absolutely beautiful, and I've used it a lot to help motivate me when writing my Tolkien stories - although, it can also be a huge distraction looking at the gorgeous Elvenking! ;) Until next time, take care & be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

I placed the upcoming meeting between Thranduil and Thrór in 2753. This would make Thorin II only seven years old at the time, as in _LOTR, Appendix A, Durin's Folk_ it says he was born in 2746. This is very different from the movie which made it appear he was around the same age as when Smaug attacks in 2770 (he would've been 24 years old). I make no apologies to PJ & co for the change seeing as how they messed with Tolkien's timeline, Thranduil and the original story so much!

 _ **Nár the Dwarf**_

The dwarf Nár is actually a Tolkien creation, although not much is known of him save he was the old companion who went with Thrór to Moria (reference is the one above). We know nothing of his parentage and so I took the name Nýr from the same source Tolkien is reputed to have taken many of his original names for the dwarves in the _The Hobbit_. The source is a collection of Old Norse poems called Poetic Edda. The poem in particular is called Völuspá and the section with the names is called the Dvergatal (the "Catalogue of Dwarves"). In case you're curious the name Nýr is a male name (obviously) and it means 'new' or 'young'.

 _ **Thranduil's Elk**_

I love these beautiful creatures! FYI – the elk in the movie is commonly known as an Irish elk, an extinct species that stood about 2.1 metres (6.9ft) tall at the shoulders and with the largest antlers of any known deer – they grew to a maximum length of 3.65 metres (12ft) from tip to tip. The largest specimen of the animal found weighs 700kg or more. The elk in this chapter is the first of many noble mounts for Thranduil leading up to the one who appears in the BOTFA. I was fortunate to see some of the antlers from these magnificent creatures when I visited Bunratty Castle in County Clare, Ireland; and my first reaction was: "Thranduil's elk!" :'( The antlers had been preserved in the peat bogs since the last ice age!

 _ **Emerald Necklace of Girion**_

This is mentioned in _The Hobbit, Chapter 12 – Inside Information_ : "the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings". This is also the necklace Bard gives to Thranduil after the BOTFA as a token of his gratitude for the aid the Elves provided to his people.

 _ **Woodland Elves**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders_ the first time the Dwarves and Bilbo come across the Elves feasting in the forest they are all "dressed in green and brown". There is no mention of the king being present. However, when they come to the third feast, and apparently the main one as Kili observed: "There's a regular blaze of light begun…hundreds of torches and many fires must have been lit…and hark to the singing and the harps", and it is described as being "greater and more magnificent than before", the Elves have now got "green and white gems on their collars and their belts" and Thranduil is now present. To me this implies that the ones with gems on their clothes could be close to the king, either by being his guards or his "lords in waiting". I chose to make them his guards. :) Incidentally, this may also explain why the Elves captured Thorin the third time their feast got crashed when he stepped out in to their midst – the king was there.

 _ **Ulmo the Vala & the tainted water**_

Of him in _The Silmarillion, Valaquenta_ it is said: "Ulmo is the Lord of Waters. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all deep waters about the Earth or under the Earth…He is next in might to Manwë…Ulmo loves both Elves and Men, and never abandoned them…mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-earth with voices that are heard only as the music of water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of the world. Thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda."

Although Tolkien didn't really mention anything about the Dwarves' mining affecting water ways, etc, it has been proven that mining can and does affect water supplies near to where they are located. Therefore, although not intentionally, the Dwarves mining could have affected the water supply and subsequently the wildlife that drinks it.


	15. An Ignominious Act

**AUTHOR NOTE:** I'm still alive! It certainly took me more than the three weeks I thought it would to get this chapter ready, for which I deeply apologise, especially to those of you who have been patiently waiting to see what would happen next. Real Life has been a formidable enemy, but I FINALLY defeated it!

Did you all hear the good news about the new JRR Tolkien book (edited by Christopher Tolkien) that's coming out in August? The Fall of Gondolin, with illustrations by Alan Lee, can now be pre-ordered online! YAY!

Thank you to everyone who is continuing to read this story, I really do appreciate every single one of you. To guest reviewer **FramedCuriosity** I extend my sincerest gratitude for your wonderful review of the last chapter. I am so glad you're enjoying the story, and thanks for your feedback on my characterisation of Thranduil. As a token of my appreciation I dedicate this chapter to you. I hope you like it. :) And, seeing as it's Mother's Day here in Australia today, Sunday 6 May, I also dedicate this chapter to all the wonderful mothers out there, particularly my own. She raised my six siblings and I by herself after our father died (our ages ranged from 5yrs-16yrs). She's done a magnificent job raising us, and we would be lost without her.

* * *

 _ **Part 15 – An Ignominious Act**_

Having taken leave of Girion and his people at the great bridge that lay across the Running River as it flowed down into the valley from Erebor, Thranduil and his Elves marched along the wide stone-paved road that led up to the Front Gate of the Dwarven kingdom. The large solid door was immense, and over it was a tall arch engraved with runes. The afternoon sunlight shone brilliantly upon the entrance, warming the grey stones and lending them a luminous aura. Issuing forth from under the gate came the stream from the source of the Running River. Rushing noisily through a narrow channel, the water ran swiftly alongside the road before it parted and poured over two falls that sent the river flowing toward Dale.

And there above the gate was the main guard post – though the sentries were few and far from prompt in appearing upon Thranduil calling out a greeting.

'Hail, O Elvenking!' The reply came from a red-bearded Dwarf who held a tall flagon in his hand. 'Come in, and welcome! News of your approach was sent to our king and he awaits you in the Great Hall. Open the gate there, lads!' The last was a roared command that soon had the Front Gate opening wide. 'Should you be hungry, O King, there is also a hearty meal being served inside, and many roaring fires to warm you in our halls.'

'Thank you, Master Dwarf.'

Dismounting from his elk, Thranduil stroked the animal's neck and bade him to remain outside. 'For their door is not sufficiently wide enough to permit you to enter, unless you remove your fine antlers.' At the elk's scoffing reaction he laughed merrily. 'Yes, I know you would never consider it,' he said, 'therefore, my friend, you shall need to remain here. The grass smells sweet and the water plentiful, so you should be comfortable.'

Then turning to his Royal Guard, he informed them, 'it would not do to enter into the great hall of another king with so large a company at my back, so I shall require only my senior aides to accompany me when I meet with Thrór. You, my good people, may await my return in one of the chambers where you may enjoy the hospitality of our hosts. But remember that we are guests of the Dwarves, and their customs at table are different from our own. And pray do not tease them about their beards!'

The Elves instantly gave their laughing assurances that they would mind their sometimes over merry tongues, and without any further delay Thranduil proceeded to lead them through the Front Gate and into the depths of Erebor.

O * O

After leaving the main body of his company of guards to enjoy the feast spread out in one of the spacious halls, Thranduil and his four aides followed a rather fat Dwarf through several passageways and cavernous rooms toward the Great Hall; the tall ceilings, smooth walls and floors that they saw were a shining example of the skill and talent of the Dwarves.

Upon arriving at the entrance to the Great Hall, the Dwarf halted and gestured toward the spears the aides still carried. 'As Doorward to my king, I cannot permit you to enter his presence with such weapons,' he said. 'I must bid you to lay them aside before you enter.'

At a nod from Thranduil the Elves placed their spears against the wall near the door.

'I must ask that you leave your swords behind as well,' the Dwarf added.

Upon hearing this Thranduil's eyes turned cold. 'Would you deprive a king's guard of all the means by which they may protect him?' he demanded.

'Nay, O King,' the Dwarf hurriedly answered, and he began to twist his beard nervously with his fingers. 'But no one, save only our people, are permitted to enter the Great Hall whilst carrying a weapon.'

'And yet my cousin did invite him, so some lenience to our rule must be permitted, especially to one who is a king to his people,' a deep voice said.

Glancing toward the doorway, the Elves saw an old Dwarf standing there; he wore garments of the richest material, and around his neck was hung a heavy gold chain inset with precious stones. With an apologetic expression on his face he bowed to the Elves.

'I am Farin, son of Borin who was brother to King Dáin,' he informed them. 'Welcome, King Thranduil, to Erebor. Be pleased to enter the Great Hall; my cousin, King Thrór, awaits you inside.'

Repaying Farin's gesture of goodwill with a civil nod and a brief word of thanks, Thranduil stepped across the threshold and for the first time laid eyes upon the Great Hall of Erebor.

Built during the time of King Thráin, the large chamber was a masterpiece of Dwarven ingenuity and splendour. Great stone pillars were carved in precise lines down its long length, and the floor was a marvel of polished smoothness. Only a few Dwarves were present in the wide space, and most of them stood at the far end of the room on a raised dais containing several steps. And there, upon the highest level, seated upon a grand throne, was King Thrór. The King under the Mountain bore himself proudly in his royal raiment; an exquisite gold ring adorned his finger, and on his head was placed a magnificent gold crown.

As his visitors drew nearer to the throne Thrór did not stand to welcome them in response to Thranduil's greeting. Instead, he merely inclined his head, and said, 'You are welcome in our kingdom, King Thranduil,' and gestured for a Dwarf with a long black beard to come forward. The Dwarf slowly approached the front of the throne. Then, after bowing to his king, he handed him the large wooden chest he carried in his hands.

As Thrór opened the chest behind the bulky form of his kin, Thranduil's keen eyes caught a glimpse of a Dwarf-child's small face sneaking a peak at him from behind the throne; the deep dark eyes were transfixed on his golden hair and crown of berries and red leaves. The child, perceiving he had been spotted, quickly ducked out of sight. However, his presence had also been noticed by another Dwarf who hastily went to pick him up, and his whispering rebuke carried clearly to the Elves' sharp ears: 'Thorin, you naughty lad! You were to stay with your mother!'

To Thranduil's hidden amusement the "naughty lad" squirmed in his captor's arms as he was carried away from the throne.

'King Thranduil.'

Returning his attention to Thrór, the Elvenking saw that he was now closing the lid on the chest and was handing it back to the Dwarf as he continued, 'I requested your presence here as a particular item was found by one of my kin. It was discovered deep within a natural crevice during a reconstruction of an old tunnel.'

At these words Thranduil glanced toward the wooden chest, and a cautious feeling of hope sprang to life in his heart.

'It is not an uncut stone, but rather a finely crafted piece of jewellery that I wished to show you,' Thror finished, and waved his permission for the item to be shown to the Elvenking.

The Dwarf carrying the chest descended the steps, and upon arriving at the bottom, opened the lid. A silvery white light, like that of the moon when it shines brightly in the night sky, shone out of the opening.

His increasingly hopeful eyes instantly captivated by the brilliant radiance, Thranduil slowly walked forward; his steps carefully measured and betraying no sign of his eagerness to look upon the discovered item.

As his gaze passed over the outside of the chest to peer into its depths, Thranduil's eyes widened and his breath caught inside his throat – for there, lying on a bed of shimmering white gems that appeared dull next to its luminous sheen, was his beloved wife's silver and pearl necklace!

All time froze whilst the King of Mirkwood stared at the precious keepsake of his Queen; and a great host of memories flooded his mind of Elwen's smiling face as she wore it, firstly as a bride in Doriath, and continuing on until the day he last saw her wear it when she held their son in her arms beneath the green trees of the forest.

A betraying tremor shook his hand as Thranduil reached out to touch the shining treasure that still bore the lingering scent of his wife after so many years. His fingertips were within a hairsbreadth of the edge of the chest when a harsh voice spoke, and the Dwarf slammed the lid closed with a decisive bang.

Uncaring of the narrow escape to his fingers, Thranduil's eyes were locked on the dark wooden exterior of the chest while his mind was in a daze of anguished dismay. He had not held it! He had not touched the pearls where his dearest Elwen's gentle hand had often rested! Finally, he dragged his gaze away to look up at the one who had ordered the lid to be closed and denied him his wife's necklace: King Thrór!

Now Thrór, who originally had every intention of honouring his forefather's promise to the Elvenking, had found his thoughts ever turning against the idea. When the first whisper began he could not say, but all he knew now was that he would not part with a single item of treasure whose beauty had captivated his eyes and heart – as had the necklace of Queen Elwen. When Thranduil's haunted gaze lifted from the chest and rose to meet his, Thrór's heart was unmoved by the tortured pain that blazed in the Elvenking's blue eyes.

'This treasure, and all such like it, I do claim as part of the wealth of my people,' Thrór announced.

At these words, Thranduil's pain turned to angered disbelief.

'By what right do you, Thrór son of Dáin, make such a claim on a treasure of my people?' he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. 'The necklace was crafted by Elven-smiths in Doriath for my lady, Queen Elwen, and no Dwarf had any hand in its making. Ownership of it was claimed by myself and my son in the agreement that King Thráin signed when first he sought to make a kingdom here. Do you now seek to dishonour the word of your forefather by refusing to return that which does not rightfully belong to you?'

'It was unearthed in our realm,' Thrór retorted curtly. 'By my kin's hand it was found, so here among my kinfolk it shall remain. And all items of worth that are found in Erebor are the property of its king.'

Deciding to forgo his pride for the sake of having Elwen's necklace returned to him, Thranduil put aside his just outrage and offered, 'one treasure may be replaced with another. I therefore offer the gold I possess in exchange for my lady's necklace.'

Thrór immediately rejected the proposal. 'The gold you would offer is a mere trifle compared to what is contained within this mountain, and it would be a poor substitute for these beautiful jewels.' Staring down at the Elves, Thrór said dismissively, 'there is naught you can offer that shall induce me to hand it to you, Thranduil of Mirkwood.'

The Dwarf's discourteous manner of address and tone instantly killed any thought of further entreaty from the Elvenking's mind.

Glaring up at Thrór with eyes turned glacial with utter loathing, Thranduil's hand tightened on his staff. But even as he raised the staff to strike it against the stone beneath his feet, and so bring the walls of the great hall crumbling down, he recalled the bloodshed that had followed the treachery of the Dwarves from Nogrod when they coveted the Silmaril set within the Nauglamír. The memory of the slaughter that arose due to the Dwarves' greed stayed Thranduil's hand, and he glanced one last time at the wooden chest that held captive the precious necklace of his wife. He could not allow another war for the sake of treasure alone to claim the lives of his people, no matter how much it pained him to see Elwen's jewels in the hands of such perfidious thieves.

However, of one thing he was certain: the Dwarves would find it difficult to journey through his realm from this day onward. A simple enchantment to confuse them and their ponies as they approached his borders would suffice.

A small, determined smile curled Thranduil's lips at the thought, even as his eyes flashed his disdain for Thrór. Then, without a single gesture or word of farewell, he pivoted gracefully about and strode away with his guards falling in behind him. His contempt for the Dwarf evident in every regal line of his tall form as he walked proudly down the length of the hall and passed through the doorway, Thranduil never once turned around to look back.

As they made their way to the Front Gate, the small group of Elves encountered no hindrance to their passage through Erebor. The Dwarves they met took one glance at Thranduil's icy expression as he approached and wisely stayed close to the wall – none desiring to further incite the Elvenking's wrath, which was clearly already burning fiercely.

His long strides taking him swiftly through the chamber where the greater company of his guards were happily feasting on the food provided to them, Thranduil issued a sharp order in an elven-tongue. Without hesitation the guards all leapt to their feet, some leaving their meals mid-bite, and hurried after their king who had not paused in his advance to the other door.

'O King! Why do you leave our halls so soon after arriving? The feast has not truly commenced until a few toasts have been drunk!'

Clutching a full flagon of wine in his hand, the cheerful, but rather drowsy, red-bearded sentry blinked in surprise when the previously civil Elvenking said grimly as he passed, 'I would sooner languish beneath a starless sky for a thousand ages than drink a toast in the lair of that faithless thief!'

Before the befuddled Dwarf could realise the insult to one of his kin, the Elves had marched through the Front Gate, and were moving swiftly down the road. However, rather than following it all the way to Dale, they diverted and turned westward where the pinewoods grew thick around the southern spurs of the Mountain. In the gathering darkness of night the Elves moved silently and fleetly in the wake of their king as he led them back to the forest, and throughout the journey home the merry folk of Mirkwood wondered what had transpired in the Dwarven realm that could have so angered him. Only the four aides who were present at the meeting between their king and Thrór knew the truth, and not one of them would reveal what happened, for Thranduil had ordered them to keep silent on the matter.

When the elf-host arrived back at the Elvenking's halls all those who lived within the great cave also pondered over his austere manner – and none more so than his son. But even the close relationship he shared with his father did not assist Legolas in learning the truth when he sought Thranduil out to discuss what had taken place in Erebor.

'Father, there is a strange melancholy that lies behind your anger, one which I have never before seen,' he said worriedly. 'What occurred in the Mountain to cause you such distress?'

Seated within the privacy of his chamber, Thranduil slowly removed his crown and laid it aside before he answered Legolas' question. 'What occurred is that once again the race of Dwarves have proven themselves false,' he said quietly. 'No dictate of conscience or honour will bind them to what they have sworn when the lust for treasure ensnares their hearts and minds.'

'Did they forswear their agreement with you?' Legolas asked in astonishment. 'Do they intend to remain in the Mountain and not abide by the terms set between yourself and Thráin?'

'They have certainly forsworn parts of it,' Thranduil replied carefully.

At these words a heavy look of dismay appeared in Legolas' eyes. 'They will no longer search for Mother's necklace,' he whispered.

'No, they will not,' came Thranduil's short reply. _And it is not a lie,_ he thought to himself. _They have no need to search for what is already found. But it is better that he believes the jewels are forever lost than to know Elwen's precious necklace lies in the hands of that dragon-hearted Dwarf._

'I am sorry, Father.'

Turning to gaze at his son, Thranduil saw that his expression was one of great sorrow.

'You have lived in hope all these many years that one day Mother's jewels would be found,' Legolas said sadly. 'And now to have the Dwarves hinder your search for her greatest treasure must be the cruellest of tortures.'

'Their actions have grieved me most severely,' Thranduil agreed, 'however, you are incorrect in one thing, my child.' Rising to his feet, the Elvenking walked across the room to lay a hand on Legolas' fair head. 'Your mother's greatest treasure was not her necklace,' he said gently. 'That honour belongs to you, and you alone. Do not ever forget that, Legolas. And were you the one that was lost, and the Dwarves hindered me in my search for you, I would tear that mountain asunder until I had found you.'

Observing the deep love in his parent's eyes that accompanied his words, Legolas knew he was in deadly earnest; and without hesitation the Prince of Mirkwood replied with equal fervour, 'as I would do to find you, Father! And perhaps one day our fortune shall change and the Dwarves will leave the Mountain again, thus allowing us the freedom to once more seek for the necklace ourselves.'

Thranduil's only response to this was a small sad smile, for he knew that should the Dwarves ever leave the Mountain any search he may conduct through its deep tunnels would avail him nothing – as Thrór already held in his possession that which he sought.

And so, the Elvenking resigned himself to having to live in the knowledge that his beloved's necklace was now considered a Dwarf treasure; a prize in their collection, valued only for its worth and beauty. The fact was more painful to endure than the centuries of not knowing the location of the jewels!

Many seasons then passed, and through them all Thranduil had a careful watch kept upon his eastern border – especially where it lay near the slopes of Erebor. Thrór had proven himself a thief once, and the Elvenking did not desire to be taken unawares should the dwarf decide to follow in his Nogrod kin's footsteps and attempt to plunder his treasure hoard!

Thus it was that when seventeen years of Men had passed since his meeting with Thrór, and the mild midmorning breeze was sweetly fragranced with the scent of autumn flowers, one of Thranduil's spies was softly singing to himself as he sat in a tall pine tree just nigh to Erebor when a sudden noise like a hurricane came from the North.

Leaping to his feet, the Elf gazed through the tree's thick branches in the direction of the sound – only to start scrambling down the tree as swiftly as he could upon sighting the source of the noise.

It was a dragon! A fire-drake, monstrous in size with red-golden scales and outstretched wings, descending with wicked speed upon Erebor!

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks again for reading. Up next: Thranduil sees once again the destructive power of dragon fire. Until then, take care & be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **The Great Hall of Thráin & Thrór's behaviour**_

The relaxed manner of the sentries is taken from Balin's comments in _The Hobbit, Chapter 13 – Not at Home_ : "…that door behind leads into a rockhewn chamber that was made here as a guardroom. There were several places like it round the Mountain. But there seemed small need for watching in the days of our prosperity, and the guards were made over comfortable, perhaps – otherwise we might have had longer warning of the coming of the dragon…." This would seem to imply the guards were extremely lax in their duties.

Thranduil's comment about the Elves making fun of the Dwarves was inspired from this quote in _The Hobbit, Chapter 3 – A Short Rest_ : "Dwarves don't get on well with them [Elves]. Even decent enough dwarves like Thorin and his friends think them foolish (which is a very foolish thing to think), or get annoyed with them. For some elves tease them and laugh at them, and most of all at their beards."

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 12 – Inside Information_ we get the description of what the passageways in Erebor were like: "straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope direct to some distant end…."

I made no mention of the Arkenstone in Thrór's chair as depicted in the movie, simply because that would imply Thranduil could not help but see it before the events in _The Hobbit_. In the book when Thranduil first sees the stone as Bilbo presents it in the tent to Bard, his reaction is that of one who had never seen it before. "The Elvenking himself, whose eyes were used to things of wonder and beauty, stood up in amazement." Besides, I don't think the Dwarves (who were quite jealous of their secrets and most precious treasures) would so blatantly display their most prized possession where anybody from another race could see it. They'd be more likely to put it in a place where only their people could admire it.

From the same source above, Tolkien in his narration has this to say of Dwarves: "There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much." Added to this in _LOTR, Appendix A, Durin's Folk_ there is an implication that perhaps Thrór began to go mad when the ring he possessed (one of the seven that Sauron helped forge) turned evil upon Sauron awakening. Tolkien writes: "The only power over them [the Dwarves] that the Rings wielded was to inflame their hearts with a greed of gold and precious things, so that if they lacked them all other good things seemed profitless, and they were filled with wrath and desire for vengeance on all who deprived them."

The above may go some way to explaining why PJ & co decided to ignore this quote from _The History of Middle-Earth, The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Part 1, Chapter 9 – The Making of Appendix A (iv) Durin's Folk_ where it says: "Then Thrór Dáin's son, the great-great-grandson of Thráin, returned to Erebor and became King-under-the-Mountain, and prospered exceedingly, having the friendship of all that dwelt near, whether Elves or Men or the birds and beasts of the land." Why would a dwarf who had friendship with the Elves treat their king so shabbily, unless his heart and mind had been affected.


	16. Of Dragon-fire, Wrath & Ruin

**AUTHOR NOTE:** This is quite a lengthy chapter compared to the previous ones (over 6000 words) so I hope it makes up for the long wait. :)

I really want to say thank you to everyone who is continuing to read the story, and also to the new readers who've joined us. An extra special word of gratitude goes out to **FramedCuriosity** and **AndurilofTolkien** for your reviews of the last chapter. I dedicate this one to you both. I hope you like it. :)

And, to FramedCuriosity, I couldn't directly reply to your review so I will mention here how much I appreciate all the feedback you gave, and the dedication is the best way I know to show my gratitude for your support. Thanks again.

* * *

 _ **Part 16 – Of Dragon-fire, Wrath & Ruin**_

The sound of pine-trees creaking and cracking on the Mountain's side assaulted the Elf's ears as he jumped to the ground; and with ne'er a single glance cast over his shoulder as the loud noises increased, he ran quickly through the forest to have warning sent to his king. Then a fierce roar reverberated throughout the land, and a blazing heat suddenly sizzled the air.

Pausing briefly to look behind him, the Elf saw the dragon crouched upon the peak of Erebor, while a wall of flame engulfed anything in its path as it burned a fiery trail down the Mountain.

The bells of Dale were all ringing; the clamorous chimes accompanied by shrill screams of terror as the city's populace beheld the fell creature.

Hearing a flock of birds squawking in alarm as they flew overhead, the Elf shouted desperately, 'get news to the king! The Mountain and Dale are besieged by a dragon!'

Another tremendous roar sounded out, and a dreadful fear consumed the dark-haired Elf, for the dragon was now swooping down the slopes, his gleaming scales reflecting the heated glow of his fire as he breathed it directly toward the beautiful pinewoods – and all those within it!

'GO!' The Elf yelled, his heart beating rapidly as he ran, but knowing full well that the effort would be futile; for no one – Man, Elf or Dwarf – had ever outrun a dragon's flame when the beast was so close. 'Tell the king! The woods will burn! Tell the –!'

A hot blaze of fire exploded across the tree-tops. The Elf's fair voice gave a shriek of agonised pain. Then all that could be heard was the loud angry growl of red flames as they engulfed the woods.

O * O

Far across the forest of Mirkwood the grim tidings spread: "A great fire-drake from the North has come! The pinewoods near Erebor are ablaze!" The trees trembled as they spread the news, while the air was filled with swift-flying messengers who fluttered about anxiously as they informed the Elvenking of the attack on the Mountain and the city of Dale.

His fears over what the Dwarves' greed would summon having been realised, Thranduil hastily mobilised his forces and had great stores of goods made ready to accompany him; for the people of Dale would have need of assistance and the dragon would not yet be in control of the Mountain. It was therefore quite soon after the news was first brought to him of the attack that he left his great cave at the head of a vast host of Elves, and headed in the direction of the burning glow and black clouds of smoke that covered his eastern border.

Their progress was swift, and as the faint pink light of dawn rose on the fourth day after the dragon's attack, Thranduil and his host could make out the blackened remains of the pinewood through the forest wall: where once was a lush and pleasant woodland stretching across the valleys and plains to Erebor, there was now only a wasteland and fragments of trees littering the ground. As they drew closer to the area they found to their astonishment that no flames were leaping toward the fresh trees of the forest – there was not even a smouldering ember to be seen upon the scorched earth! Only a small group of Elves gathered around a burnt out stump were to be observed, and they all rose to greet the Elvenking as he approached.

'Hail, O King!'

Their voices soft with unnatural fatigue, the Elves stood wearily; their fair faces dark with soot and ash, while some bore burn marks on their clothing and skin.

'My good people, pray be seated once more,' Thranduil urged them as he dismounted his elk. 'You are all quite worn with heavy toil, and your wounds must be tended.' As the Elves gratefully obeyed him and healers came forward to treat their injuries, he said, 'I had expected to be confronted with a large portion of our forest consumed by fire, but here I find all flames to be defeated. Am I to understand I have you to thank for this blessing?'

The most dishevelled out of the Elves nodded. 'Yes, O King,' he replied. 'We were wandering not far from here when the dragon first attacked. We heard one of our people cry out from the midst of the woods before the blast of fire descended. Dûrion we fear did not survive the flames for the inferno was strong, and the intensity of its heat could be felt even at this great distance. We could not hope to defeat its fury in close quarters, so we created a barrier between it and the remainder of the forest by using our own fire to burn its fuel source. Unfortunately, some embers spread by the wind ignited some smaller fires and we only succeeded in putting them out a short while ago. O King, we do apologise for burning parts of the forest, but we could not see how else we might fight the dragon's fierce blaze.'

'Do not fear that I shall be angry,' Thranduil reassured him. 'Your actions helped prevent greater damage to the forest. Where our fires burn, healing and new life shall come; however, the scorching fingers of dragon fire will forever scar the place it touches and leave naught but death in its wake.'

'As the city of Dale has sadly discovered,' murmured an Elf with burns on his neck and badly singed hair. 'Whilst we fought this fire the birds brought news to us of his assault. After he had slain the Dwarves who attempted to escape the Mountain by way of the Front Gate, the dragon turned toward Dale. His fire had caused steam to rise up from the river and in the thick fog that fell upon the city he descended on them. Their warriors were nearly all destroyed and many of the buildings now lie in ruin.'

'But there must still be folk dwelling within it,' observed another Elf. 'During the day the sky remains clear, however we have seen the dragon flying above the valley at night and heard the terrible screams of young maidens as he carries them back into the Mountain.'

'Then he has claimed it.' Thranduil gazed across the blackened wasteland to look up at the looming height of Erebor. 'I did not believe a Dwarven realm could fall so quickly, and as the dragon is now ensconced within the Mountain it would be the height of madness to engage him in battle.'

'Shall I give the order to withdraw,' Gildoron asked quietly.

'Nay, for we may yet be of some assistance to the survivors of Dale,' Thranduil replied.

'And the town of Esgaroth,' said the Elf with the burnt hair, 'the dragon destroyed much of it last night.'

Upon hearing these tidings Thranduil promptly ordered his host to divide into two companies – one was to accompany him toward Dale, while the other would follow Gildoron and go down the river to lend aid to the people of Esgaroth.

'But proceed with caution,' the Elvenking warned his people. 'Be silent as you travel and be stealthy in your approach. It is possible the dragon only attacked Esgaroth to dissuade the townsfolk from attempting any action against him, and may now leave them in peace; however, we cannot be sure. Therefore, be ever watchful for him.'

Upon giving him their assurance that they would take every care on their journey, the group led by Gildoron took their leave of Thranduil and departed for Esgaroth.

Turning to the remaining company of Elves, which was significantly smaller than the other headed for the Long Lake, Thranduil informed them: 'we shall make for the valley that lies between the low western spurs of the Mountain. From there we will approach Dale by the route that goes around Ravenhill on its southern arm. It is a short distance from that point to Dale, and when the dragon sleeps we shall have opportunity to traverse the open space without fear of rousing him. Legolas.'

Upon hearing his name called, the Prince of Mirkwood stepped out from among the ranks of Elves. 'Yes, Father?'

'You and the members of your patrol are to remain near me; however, from their number I want you to select three of them to form the escort for those who have been injured and shall be returning home.'

At these words from their king one of the injured Elves stood up, saying, 'with your leave, O King, we would prefer to accompany you, for none of our injuries are severe enough to warrant our leaving your company.'

Bestowing a small genuine smile upon the Elf, Thranduil said, 'perhaps, O Valiant One, but you and your friends have endured several days of battling dragon fire, which has left you wearied in both body and spirit. In such a state I cannot permit you to continue onward with us. Thus, you shall all make your way home and await our return.'

Realising that any objection would be futile the Elf bowed. 'As you command us, O King, so shall we obey,' he said, and gestured for his fellow companions to rise.

As the other injured Elves stood up Legolas swiftly chose their escorts, and soon Thranduil and his company watched as the small group began to make their way back through the forest.

'Now, let us set forth on our own journey,' the Elvenking declared, 'and remember not a word or song is to be uttered as we cross this desolated stretch of earth. At this distance the dragon cannot smell us within the Mountain, but the sound of our voices may carry to his sharp ears if he lies close to the Front Gate. Thus, be vigilant and quiet, good people, and may Elbereth guide our way.'

The company of Elves moved to follow him as he turned to lead them, but then paused as he halted abruptly.

Directing a stern look at his large elk as it too made to accompany him, Thranduil said, 'you, my friend, are not to come.'

At this command the elk gave several short indignant barks.

'I shall travel the distance in the same way as my people – on foot.'

Another bark came, only this time it was one of concern.

'Yes, I know there is danger, which is why we are taking every precaution not to be seen or heard – and you, Voronwë, are much too noticeable with your fine antlers. I bid you to remain here out of sight of the dragon until we return.'

With considerable reluctance the noble elk lowered his head obediently, although he apparently could not refrain from one last comment.

'Impudent creature! I shall take that remark about my hair as a compliment,' Thranduil retorted lightly, and gave the animal a gentle pat on the neck.

O * O

The bright glowing orb of the sun was slowly turning westward when the Elvenking's company reached the end of the narrow valley at the foot of the Mountain. Their soundless approach had gone undetected by the dragon as he dwelt within the great depths of Erebor, and the Elves ran along the side of the Mountain with silent steps; their lightly shod feet leaving no indentation in the small patches of grass warmed by the afternoon sun.

Passing by a mound of tumbled rocks, the Elves continued to listen carefully for any sign that the dragon had left the Mountain; but all was still and quiet within Erebor. The only sound to be heard was the gusting wind coming down from the North, which was also bringing with it dark clouds heavy with rain.

Gazing up at the gathering mass of clouds, Legolas said softly to his father, 'should the rain come will that deter the dragon from leaving his piles of stolen treasure?'

'Perhaps,' Thranduil answered quietly. 'Fire-drakes do prefer the comfort of their lairs when confronted with wind and rain; however, being so soon after his conquest of the Mountain, if this one is as arrogant as his predecessors he will sacrifice his desire for a pleasant doze upon his treasure hoard and make an appearance – if only to remind the survivors of his wrath that he is the victor and to capture another to satisfy his hunger.'

'Then let us hope that he is a slothful beast,' Legolas said, 'so that we may use the rain to our advantage and – Wait! There is something lurking amongst the rocks over yonder!'

Having stopped at the same time as his son's hushed exclamation, Thranduil concentrated all his senses on the area above them; seeking to find the exact location of the harsh sigh he also had heard. Behind their king and his son the company of Elves were poised for battle; their weapons already drawn and at the ready with swift and deadly grace.

A brief moment passed. Then the sound came once more; only this time it was followed by a choked sob and what was probably a subdued sniffle, but which to the keen hearing of the Elves was as loud as a trumpet blast.

'That noise did not come from a marauding Orc, nor a dragon hatchling,' one of the Elves murmured.

'It is a dwarf.' Thranduil's tone was cold, but he did signal for his people to lower their weapons. 'And he has several companions with him in that small crevice hidden beneath the overhanging cliff.'

As he gestured toward the place, a dwarf cautiously peeped his head out from behind a large rock to look down at the company of Elves. An expression of tremendous relief passed over his face, and the folk from Mirkwood heard him say, 'it is the Elvenking, and he has brought a small army of his warriors. Many of them are archers!'

A rumble of deep voices greeted this news, with many of them sounding pleased. One voice in particular was noticeable for its grim determination as it declared: 'Good! We will soon have our gold restored to us from that accurst dragon! They should be able to easily slay the beast!'

Thranduil arched a single eyebrow at these words. _A presumption most flattering, but which would be proven quite erroneous if I were so foolish as to send my people against a fortified dragon_ , he thought; and he watched as several Dwarves appeared from behind the rocks.

The small group was led by a very young dwarf whose fine raiment was now torn and spoilt by dirt; and the Elves could see upon the dwarf's cheeks glistening droplets of tears, with some entrapped within the hairs of his short beard. The obvious signs of the young one's grief were enough to stir feelings of pity in the hearts of all of the Elves; so they waited patiently as the Dwarves slowly made their way down from their hiding place in the Mountain's side, and then across the grassy floor of the valley to where Thranduil stood.

Upon reaching the Elvenking the young dwarf bowed, and said, 'O King, gladly do we welcome your presence.'

Recognising the voice as the one that had made the comment about his people slaying the dragon, Thranduil replied bluntly, 'we are but a small group come to lend aid to those in Dale and those of your people who survived the dragon's attack.' And summoning several Elves forward, he had them hand over the food sacks they carried.

Their gnawing hunger driving them to forget their manners, many of the Dwarves fell upon the sweetly fragrant food with no word of thanks. Plonking themselves down on the ground they quickly began to devour the selection of bread, salted meat, and a variety of fruit and vegetables. One of them, a tiny child, ate with such speed he choked on a mouthful of carrot.

'Easy there, Balin!' the head dwarf said severely, as he lightly thumped the little one's back. 'You are meant to chew the food, not swallow it whole.'

His teary eyes flickering toward the Elves who had witnessed his embarrassment of being remonstrated in public, Balin ducked his head and sniffed – even as he shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and mumbled, 'yes, Thorin.'

The familiar name drew Thranduil's attention, and he looked closely at the dwarf who was now turning back to face him. Recognition dawned on the Elvenking as the dwarf's eyes stared at him: it was the "naughty lad" who had hidden behind the throne that black day when Thrór dishonoured the agreement and refused to return Elwen's necklace.

'You must help us,' Thorin said earnestly. 'The dragon has taken over the Mountain and stolen our treasure! My father and grandfather have not been seen, along with so many of our warriors who were inside at the time of the attack. We fear they are all dead. Our armouries are also barred to us, but you have many weapons, O King! Use them to slay this beast!'

"I will lend you what aid lies within my power, Master Dwarf, to assist with the care of your people who survived,' Thranduil said gravely, 'but while your plight is desperate and your losses are heavy, I will not sanction an attack on the dragon whilst he dwells within the protective walls of Erebor. I cannot risk the lives of my people on such a futile endeavour.'

'Not even for the sake of the silver and pearl necklace?' Thorin asked in disbelief. 'I have heard the stories of what you offered for it. Were you to assist us in reclaiming our treasure I would return yours to you.'

Thranduil's expression hardened. 'The beauty of my wife's necklace will not be stained with the blood of my people,' he said sharply. 'Rather would I suffer the pain of knowing it is now part of a dragon's hoard than to sacrifice my kin for its return.'

'Then alone shall I and my kindred remain in this place, and strive to find a way to retrieve our treasure and avenge the deaths of those in the Mountain,' Thorin announced. 'You may go on to what is left of Dale and seek to comfort its people with mere words and gifts of charity. We want none of it.'

Haughtily turning away, the dwarf stalked back towards the concealed hideout in the Mountain's side. The other Dwarves, not willing to forgo the "gifts of charity" provided to them, hurriedly shoved the food they held back into their sacks and ran after him, with the only exception being little Balin. The tiny dwarf child stared at the uneaten apple in his hand before holding it out to Thranduil.

'Do you want it back?'

Momentarily startled by the selfless gesture the Elvenking could only stare down at the small woebegone face. Then crouching down he gently pushed Balin's hand back against his chest, saying mildly, 'nay, little Master, once a gift is given it should never be taken back. Now, be off with you, ere your kinfolk believe we mean to take you with us.'

His appetite returning, Balin took a huge bite out of the apple, bowed and then scampered away after his kin.

Having watched to ensure the child caught up to his companions without incident, Thranduil then turned toward the West where the orange ball of the sun was gradually sinking towards the forest; the golden rays of light were turning the swaying autumn leaves into a shimmering ocean of red.

'Dale lies four leagues from this place,' he observed. 'Moving with all speed we should arrive at the walls of the city before the rising of the first star of evening. Should the dragon be heard approaching the Front Gate do not engage him, but seek cover where you may find it. As a fire-drake he poses a greater danger from a distance than a cold-drake, and our magic alone is useless against his fire.'

A few of the Elves shifted nervously, but none hesitated to follow their king as he led them under the grey and silent cliffs of the Mountain until at length they arrived at the feet of Ravenhill.

Moving like silent shadows the Elves swiftly crept around the southern spur; only to halt when they beheld the scene of devastation before them. Gone were the lush green fields, and the rich riverbanks that once framed the flowing blue waters of the Running River as it wound a wide loop through the valley. Now the banks were bare and rocky, their beauty defiled by scorching heat, and the ground was a barren desert of ash and blackened earth. And there in the shadows of the mountain was Dale, its wondrous splendour lying in ruin among the fallen rubble of its great towers and walls. Not a single beautiful chime could be heard from one of the city's many bells, and the streets were eerily still.

'The people must be in hiding,' one of Thranduil's aide's whispered. 'There is a quiet murmur of voices issuing forth from inside the buildings that remain standing.'

'They have chosen an ill place in which to conceal themselves,' another Elf reflected softly. 'Those stones would not withstand a dragon's attack for long.'

'Let us continue onward,' was all Thranduil said, and made his way farther into the darkening shadows of the valley.

As they drew closer to the crumbling walls of Dale, the Elves glanced cautiously towards the dark cavernous opening where once the great Front Gate of Erebor had stood. The large door was burnt and broken, its heavy weight hanging uselessly against the stonewall. Out of the dark opening came the waters of the Running River; and from it also issued forth clouds of steam and thick black smoke. The harsh croak of several dark birds sounded out in their ominous warnings as the crows circled near the Gate; and there before the entrance was strewn what remained of the fierce warriors of the Mountain. The slaughter of the Dwarves had been absolute – those that had not been consumed by the fire, or devoured by the dragon, had been ripped to pieces and left to rot upon the ground.

Turning away from the grim scene, Thranduil said quietly, 'under sun and moon they must lie until time claims their flesh and bone, for none shall dare venture too near the dragon's lair to bury them. Come, there is naught we may do for the dead, but the living may yet need our help.'

A loud rumble of thunder suddenly pierced the darkening sky, and gazing up the Elvenking saw a large bank of storm clouds had gathered above the Mountain in the short time since he last looked.

'A violent tempest is imminent,' he said, 'and all is still and silent within Erebor so the dragon must be sleeping, which works to our advantage. Should the rain descend ere he comes out then the rain should help conceal our scent from him. Let us make with haste for Dale and seek out the survivors. I would speak to Lord Girion at once.'

The broken roads and scattered rubble did little to hinder the nimble steps of the Elves as they covered the remaining distance to Dale, and they crossed the north bridge leading into the city just as the first drop of water fell from the sky and landed with a soft _plop_ on the cobbled street.

Within moments the rain was teeming down. In the West, the darkened sunset strove to pierce the clouds with the last of its golden rays, but these were quickly smothered and soon the light of day had disappeared completely. Now, only the shimmering radiance of the starlight captured in the hair and eyes of the Elves could be seen reflecting off the cold rain. No lamps illuminated the streets, and no flickering candlelight could be seen in any house window.

Paying no heed to the gusts of wind that blew their long hair about their faces, or the rain that had already drenched their clothing, the fair folk of Mirkwood silently ran through the deserted streets. The outer buildings were all empty, but the sound of whispering voices could be heard coming from inside several dwellings near the centre of the city, including the old Assembly Hall.

Hearing the anxious snort of horses issuing from the stables, Thranduil ordered two of his company to go and attend to them. Then, he continued forward in the direction of the Hall.

As they passed by the crumbled remains of the fine shops that had lined the main street, from deep inside one of the collapsed buildings the Elves suddenly heard a faint cry.

'O King, there is a child trapped inside!'

Looking over to where the infant's voice had been heard, Thranduil's eyes widened when he saw Legolas already climbing the rain-soaked wreckage. Although his son's footsteps were light, the Elvenking noticed some of the precariously positioned stones shifting slightly. 'Legolas, have a care!' he called out softly. 'You move too fast! The structure is unstable and the fallen stones unevenly balanced.'

Obediently slowing down his pace, Legolas leapt across a wide gap in the mound of stones and peered into the dark depths below him.

'I see two inside,' he said. 'A woman lies unconscious beneath a wooden beam. The child is young, less than a year old and placed in a basket. He is unharmed, but his movements are feeble.'

Handing his staff to the aide beside him, Thranduil followed in Legolas' footsteps and carefully climbed the broken walls. Coming up beside his son he looked down into the remains of what once was the workshop of a toymaker. Large portions of the tiled roof had fallen into the wide space, crushing the toys on the benches and scattering pieces of them upon the floor. However, in the far corner of the room, the debris had been caught by a solid oak table; and under its sturdy protection lay the child. The woman, who was clad in rich garments, was pinned down quite close to them; it was clear she had sought to get the infant to safety before attempting to follow, only to then be caught under the collapsing structure. And although the rain did much to cover the smell, the two Elves caught the distinct odour that revealed how long the two mortals had remained trapped in the ruins of the shop.

Carefully making their way down the slippery broken stones into what remained of the room, Thranduil and Legolas approached the woman first and crouched down to examine the large beam that lay across her torso.

'The weight is not fully on her,' Legolas observed in relief. 'Had it not been partially supported by the other debris she would have been crushed completely.'

'She also has an injury here.' Thranduil reached out and gently moved aside the woman's unbound hair to reveal a massive bruise on her forehead. 'With vigilant care she will recover. Summon three others to come and lend assistance to move her. I shall retrieve the infant.'

As Legolas went to fetch help a soft wail had the Elvenking shifting under the table to lift the sobbing, curly-haired child out of the basket and into his arms.

'Hush, little one, all shall be well,' he murmured, his fair voice transforming the words into a soothing lullaby. Continuing to speak in the same tone, he held a one-sided conversation filled with nonsensical observations as he rocked the small boy and watched as Legolas returned with three of his friends.

With little effort the four Elves carefully lifted the heavy beam off the woman, and then laid her upon the shop's door that they had removed from the wreckage.

Following the solemn procession as they slowly carried their burden out of the rubble and out into the street, Thranduil glanced down at the child whose weak cries had ceased and who now lay listlessly against his chest.

'You possess a strong will, small one, to have survived so many days without nourishment,' he said, tucking his cloak more securely over the boy to shield him from the cold rain. 'However, that alone will not sustain you for much longer.'

And setting forth once more he led his people through the darkened, sodden streets until at last they arrived at the destroyed courtyard of the Assembly Hall. All the fine statues that had lined the pathways now lay smashed upon the ground, and the pavement was cracked and strewn with a variety of items dropped in haste: parcels of fine linens; elaborate hats; baskets filled with decaying food; children's toys. The sight was a grim reminder of the swiftness of the dragon's unexpected attack.

A sudden strong gust of wind dislodging his cloak, and the child's plaintive cry when the icy rain landed on his face, prompted the Elvenking to move quickly towards the cracked stairs at the Hall's main entrance. He had only just placed his right foot on the first stone step when a small peephole in the tall imposing door creeped open.

'Who goes there?' a hoarse voice demanded. 'And keep that nursling quiet! Or do you want the dragon to know our location?'

'I am Thranduil, King of the Northern Realm of Mirkwood, and your less than gracious welcome I can understand given recent events. However, the babe in my arms is hungry and frightened. If you would seek to have him kept silent then I would suggest you find him a wet nurse swiftly, for I believe his mother to be the woman my people have in their care.'

The large door was abruptly thrown open and a portly old man stepped out of the dim shadows.

'O King, I am sorry! Pray come in,' he urged quickly, beckoning the golden-haired Elf forward with his hand. 'And your people too! They may place the poor lady with the others who are seriously injured in the back room. It contains no window that would betray the light of our presence to that accurst creature. Go through that door into the main hall and someone will show you the way. They will also find you a woman to take care of the child. I must remain here on sentry.'

Thranduil acknowledged the man's help with a brief word of thanks and offered, 'you may have two of my own people to aid you, worthy father, for you must be greatly wearied after these many days of fearful watch.'

Then walking through the dark foyer that contained no lighted candles or lamps, he pushed open the heavy wooden door that led into the main gathering area and stepped through the doorway.

The room was dimly lit and across all the fine windows were draped heavy blankets to prevent the light from escaping to the outside. Scattered throughout the large hall was a large number of people: some lay upon the floor in exhausted sleep, while others sat or walked near the walls in anxious silence. Upon hearing the door open, many had turned to look at the newcomers. There was a brief pause and then a rush of whispers began.

'Mother, who is that?'

'It's the Elves!'

'Surely they can help my sister!'

'Have they killed the dragon?'

'What's that he's holding? Not another mouth to feed I hope! There's barely enough food here for us.'

The last muttered comment drew Thranduil's attention, and he frowned disapprovingly at the disgruntled looking youth who slouched against a nearby wall. A rather plump matronly woman had also heard the complaint; and with a sharp smack to the boy's arm she warned him to mind his tongue. Then walking with determined steps, the woman approached Thranduil and held out her arms.

'I will take the little one, O King,' she said, strangely not at all intimidated by the tall regal Elf who towered over her. 'I heard the poor darling when you were outside and wondered if I'd be needed.' At his questioning look she explained, 'I am Mother Sólveig, and many a young nursling I've had in my care when their own mothers cannot tend to them.'

'Then I place him into your charge, Mother Sólveig,' Thranduil said, and gently handed her the infant. 'He needs both cleaning and nourishment. He was found beside his mother who lives, but suffered a serious injury.'

'You had best bring her to the back room where all the others have been placed. Come, I shall show you the way.' Walking carefully through the Hall, the woman led them to a small door that was hidden behind a deep blue curtain near a raised dais. 'In here,' she said whilst pushing the door open and stepping aside to permit the Elves carrying the injured woman to enter the well-lit room. Upon glancing at the lady borne upon the shop's door for the first time as she passed, Mother Sólveig gasped. 'Why, it is Lord Girion's wife, Lady Frída! We had quite given up hope of finding her, and little Master Baldr.'

At this unexpected disclosure, Thranduil remarked, 'as she is wife to him, I am sure the Lord of Dale would wish to be with her. Where may I find him?'

A look of great sadness came over the woman's face. 'He lies among the dead,' she whispered. 'He fought courageously to defend the city, but when the dragon destroyed the west battlements he did not survive the fall.'

'Alas that so brave a man should meet such an ill fate,' Thranduil said solemnly. 'And grievous news also for his lady when she awakens. But who then has charge of Dale?'

Mother Sólveig sniffed. 'Any one of the gentlemen that hides themselves away when there is work to be done,' she replied with obvious disdain. 'None of them could decide who should be responsible for making the decisions as Lord Girion's elder son is at present making a journey to the southlands. We have many who are wounded, along with those of us who wish to leave; but we cannot move away from the city without assistance, and the fools will not listen when we seek their help.'

'With a dragon so near I had not thought there would be anyone so lacking in sense who would willingly choose to remain within the city walls.' His keen eyes searching the dim interior of the Hall, Thranduil asked, 'these men of questionable intelligence, where may they be found?'

'In the cellar below this room.' At the Elvenking's raised eyebrow Mother Sólveig smiled grimly. 'It is underground and the dragon's fire cannot reach them there.'

Comprehension appeared in Thranduil's eyes and his lips tightened. 'I gather your meaning,' he said forbiddingly, and retrieved his staff from his aide. 'See to the infant, Mother Sólveig, and be assured my people and I are willing to assist any who may desire to leave this blighted valley. Naught may be done this night whilst the storm surrounds us and the dragon may yet still leave the Mountain to hunt; but come the morning light, when all should be quiet at the Front Gate, we will endeavour to have you all removed from the dragon's front door.'

'You are very kind, O King,' Mother Sólveig declared, 'and there will be many mothers who will bless you for this act of compassion, especially the Lady Frída.'

Then, with as graceful a curtsy as she could manage whilst holding a child in her arms, she took her leave and withdrew.

Having waited inside the back room at a discrete distance until his parent had finished conversing with the woman, Legolas now came forward and informed him quietly, 'Father, there are several people here with serious burns to most of their bodies. I do not believe even our healers have the ability to save them. Also, I have located the entrance to the stairs that lead down to the cellar.'

His eyes a deep cerulean blue Thranduil instructed, 'if their lives cannot be saved then let us at least bring the wounded relief in their pain. Have the healers attend upon them and provide what comfort is within their power to give. The others should distribute the food we have brought. The women, children and the elderly are to receive their portions first. Meanwhile, I will speak with the craven wretches who burrow themselves beneath the ground, and leave the most vulnerable members of the city exposed to the dragon's fire.'

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Thanks again for reading. Up next: Thranduil hears the raucous laughter of a dragon when Smaug makes an appearance. Until then, take care & be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Pine tree**_

In this story the pine trees used are Scots pines (one of only three conifers native to the UK). They can grow to 35m and live for up to 700 years.

 _ **Esgaroth, Dale, Smaug & the Dwarves**_

There is no set date for when Esgaroth was built in Tolkien's writings. It does appear on Thrór's Map in _The Hobbit_. Given that Tolkien put the date of Thrór leading his people back to Erebor as TA 2590 ( _LOTR Appendix B, The Tale of Years – The Third Age_ ), I guess we could assume that the township may have already existed for Thrór to put it on his map. Thorin in _The Hobbit, Chapter 12 – Inside Information_ says that the Men of Dale used to understand the language of the thrushes and "used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake and elsewhere." The original township may also have very well been destroyed by Smaug in his "young days" as he calls them. In _The Hobbit, Chapter 10 – A Warm Welcome_ Tolkien says of Esgaroth: "The rotting piles of a greater town could still be seen along the shores when the waters sank in a drought." And later in _Chapter 12 – Inside Information_ Smaug says to himself: "Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I'm a lizard. I haven't been down that way for an age and an age…", and in the same chapter the narration for him says that he suspected the treasure was "meant to stop in the town by the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth." He also tells Bilbo that when he killed Girion Lord of Dale and "laid low the warriors of old" he was "but young and tender." It is therefore possible to assume that the 171 years that passed between him descending on Erebor and Bilbo arriving were enough for him to consider himself old, and thus he may have also attacked Esgaroth when he first came to Erebor.

In _Chapter 10 – A Warm Welcome_ it also says of the folk of Lake Town that "except for occasional squabbles about river-tolls they were friends with the Wood-Elves." Therefore, I thought it not unlikely that Thranduil would lead his Elves to aid against a dragon attack in Dale and Esgaroth. Added to this, he would also have to attend to the saving of his own realm as in _The Hobbit, Chapter 1 – An Unexpected Party_ Thorin says that when the dragon came unexpectedly whilst he was "wandering about" outside, he and some others "from a good way off saw the dragon settle on our mountain in a spout of flame. Then he came down the slopes and when he reached the woods they all went up in fire." Those woods were part of Thranduil's realm and to save the rest of his forest from the fire, the Elves would have needed to fight it.

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 12 – Inside Information_ , Bilbo finds the sleeping Smaug in the "great bottommost cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain's root." Therefore, he was quite some distance from the Front Gate.

In his storytelling in Chapter 1, Thorin doesn't say how long it was before his father and grandfather joined him after their escape from the mountain. Smaug seems to have finished off the Dwarves in the mountain very quickly, and then would come by Dale at night to carry away people to eat until, as Thorin puts it, "Dale was ruined, and all the people dead or gone." Since he knew all this it is possible he was in Dale, or very nearby to have seen it, for quite a number of days before his family came; thus why I have him, and not his father or grandfather speaking to Thranduil. In the book Thorin says he and the others that were "well outside sat and wept in hiding" – I decided to have them hiding on the western side of the mountain near the burnt woods.

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 14 – Fire & Water _it says that it was "only five days after the death of the dragon they [the Elves] came upon the shores and looked on the ruins of the town [Esgaroth]." Since Smaug's original attack was sudden and without any warning it may have been a similar amount of time before Thranduil arrived near the Mountain, by which time the situation would have been close to what is described in _LOTR, Appendix A, Annals of the Kings, III Durin's Folk_ : "all that realm was destroyed, and the town of Dale nearby was ruined and deserted; but Smaug entered into the Great Hall and lay there upon a bed of gold." Given his friendship with the folk of Lake Town as mentioned in _The Hobbit_ , I would think it likely that Thranduil would have also offered his assistance in helping the people rebuild Esgaroth – seeing as he had his Elves help them in _The Hobbit_ with the building of winter shelters, etc.

As Thorin was only 24 years old when Smaug attacked he was still considered very young by dwarf standards. In _The History of Middle-Earth, The Peoples of Middle-Earth, Part 1, Chapter 9 – The Making of Appendix A (iv) Durin's Folk_ it states: "Dwarves remained young – e.g. regarded as too tender for really hard work or for fighting – until they were 30 or nearly that (Dáin II was very young in 2799 (32) and his slaying of Azog was a great feat). After that they hardened and took on the appearance in age (by human standards) very quickly. By forty all Dwarves looked much alike in age, until they reached what they regarded as old age, about 240." This would also explain why Thranduil did not recognise him over two hundred years later when Thorin was captured trespassing in his realm and also refused to give his name or purpose for being there.

Balin, who is portrayed in the movie as being much older than Thorin, is in fact 17 years younger. Tolkien put his date of birth as 2763, making him only seven years old when Smaug attacked. In _The Hobbit, Chapter 11 – On the Doorstep_ Balin is said to have been "one of Thorin's companions on the day the Dragon came."

Thorin's comment about the necklace, and knowing what Thranduil offered for it, came from the line given to him in the movie where he picks up a necklace and says he knows of "an Elf-lord who would pay a pretty price" for it.

 _ **Woman & Child**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 14 – Fire & Water _there is mention of the wife and child of Girion who "escaped down the Running River from the ruin long ago." It is possible the child referred to was a younger child, as earlier in Chapter 12 it says that Girion gave his necklace of five hundred emeralds to the Dwarves in return "for the arming of his eldest son". I took a bit of licence here and put the wife and child in the toyshop to be saved by the Elves!


	17. A City in Peril

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Thanks to all you wonderful readers who are continuing to read the story, with a special word of thanks to those who have added it, or myself, to your favourite/follow list.

This chapter I dedicate to **FramedCuriosity** and **Guest** for your lovely reviews of the last one. :)

To Guest, I couldn't stop smiling over your words! Thank you so much for your very high praise, and I hope you enjoy reading this chapter.

* * *

 _ **Part 17 – A City in Peril**_

After entering the doorway to the deep underground cellar, the Elvenking silently descended the winding stairwell that led down into the wide space below. The lit torches in the sconces on the wall provided a deceptively cheerful glow in the otherwise gloomy room; and although they were concealed behind a far corner, the sound of the men's arguing voices carried clearly to Thranduil's sharp ears.

'The dragon will not stay forever,' said one pompously. 'We have but to seclude ourselves away out of his sight and he will eventually leave when there is nothing left for him to eat.'

'And what if you're wrong?' another cried out in frustration. 'How long must we hide like common thieves in our own city while the dragon picks off the remnants of our people, and destroys Dale down to its last stone?'

'Can we not try negotiating with it? Surely if we agree to let him have the Mountain he will leave us in peace.'

The foolish young speaker was immediately shouted down.

'You must have naught but sawdust in your head, boy! Dragons do not negotiate; they take what they want when they want, and kill whomever they please without hesitation.'

'Then would not the best option be to kill it?'

'And who would volunteer for such a task? You, O worthy baker, who trampled your own customers to get away from the beast?'

'All our finest warriors have been killed,' mourned one miserably. 'Lord Girion, our bravest and noblest fighter, fell to his death with many others. There are none left alive who would dare go up against so dangerous a foe.'

'I say let the Dwarves deal with it,' cried out another bitterly. 'Their vast hoard of treasure is the cause of this tragedy and they should be held accountable for it.'

'If what the thrushes say is true then many of the Dwarves are already dead, and the dragon has vanquished all their best warriors inside the Mountain. There will be no aid coming from them.'

'Then it would be best to follow my suggestion and remain here,' the pompous voice declared loudly. 'Once he knows there are no warriors left he will soon leave for more brutal locations to sate his appetite for battle.'

'A dragon's desire for violence is only surpassed by its lust for gold. He will not leave.'

At the sound of Thranduil's quiet voice the men all gave a startled cry and leapt to their feet. Turning to face him, many of the older members' expressions swiftly transformed from shock to extreme relief upon recognising his tall golden-haired appearance from his last visit to Dale.

'King Thranduil!'

'O King, does your presence here mean you have defeated the dragon?'

'It does not,' Thranduil replied without ceremony. 'Nor shall I sacrifice the lives of my people in the foolhardy attempt to slay him when he now has the added protection of Erebor's thick walls about him.'

'Then what brings you to Dale?' demanded the owner of the pompous voice – a rather rotund man arrayed in rich garments that declared him to be a very successful merchant. 'Have you come simply to offer advice?'

'What brought me was the plight of the innocents within this city,' Thranduil said coldly. 'And I do not give counsel when it will fall on deaf ears. Had Lord Girion survived I would have been assured a sensible and receptive listener, but what I find in his stead is a group who leaves one of their elders on sentry duty, their widows and orphans to tend the wounded in a building the dragon could reduce to ashes within moments, whilst they quarrel in safety below ground. You have lost many of your people, and yet you endanger the ones who survive in your refusal to acknowledge the grave risk in remaining within easy distance of the dragon. The sick and injured also suffer needlessly as you hold these farcical discussions. Many of your people wish to leave, and yet you withhold your assistance. The valour and nobility of mind which once prevailed within Dale has been supplanted by cowardice and poor judgement. How many more of your innocent daughters shall need to be sacrificed to the dragon's appetite before you see reason?''

At these scathing words some of the men looked down in shame as they recalled the desperate pleas of their womenfolk when they sought help in leaving the ruined city. Despite the continued attacks by the dragon they had ignored the tearful petitions and insisted that all would be well in due time.

The prosperous merchant, however, who had that very morning denied another request for aid from Mother Sólveig, pushed aside his pang of conscience, and said haughtily, 'we will not abandon our beloved city to the whims of a dragon. And what cause have you, an Elf of the forest, to meddle in our affairs? Of what concern are the lives of the people of Dale to you?'

Thranduil gazed down at the men before him with shadowed eyes.

'As the firstborn in a family must watch over the others who come after him, so must we, the firstborn of the Children of Ilúvatar, be mindful of our duty towards those who awoke after us when they are in peril,' he said. 'To sit in idleness, whilst the gift of life bestowed upon those who are kin to us is ended before its natural allotted time, is abhorrent. But, we do not force our aid upon those unwilling to accept it. Therefore, as you, in your arrogance and pride, are determined to remain in the shadow of the dragon, we shall leave you to the fate such foolish behaviour deserves. However, upon those who do wish to leave you shall not inflict so evil an end. On the morrow all who desire to depart the remnants of Dale will be provided with our escort. And be warned, if you stay and later repent your decision know that I shall not permit any of my people to again venture within eight leagues of the Mountain; once I have led my people from this place we shall not return to this valley until the dragon lies dead.'

Then, with only the slightest inclination of his head, he turned away, and as silently as he had approached them he withdrew to the room above.

Walking through the doorway at the top of the stairwell, Thranduil found his son awaiting his return.

Casting a brief glance toward the cellar, Legolas asked, 'do you believe it possible that any of them will reconsider and join the company that leaves tomorrow?'

Displaying no surprise that his son had heard every word of the conversation that took place below, the Elvenking answered, 'anything is possible, Legolas, but I doubt even those who are accounted the wisest among our kin would venture to give a definite response to your question. The race of Men are unpredictable in their behaviour. Words that may sway their decision one day, may on the next rouse them to acts of rebellion. It is best that we simply wait until the time to depart arrives and see what happens. Now, how do things fare here? Is all well?'

'There have been some noises from the Mountain,' Legolas replied in their own elf-tongue, being extremely aware of the wounded who lay within earshot. 'We have warned the folk of Dale to be cautious in venturing outside, and to speak only when absolutely necessary – and then, as quietly as possible. The food is being distributed and our healers have attended upon most of the injured. There are only a few remaining who are yet to be seen.'

'And what of the ones who are severely burned?'

Legolas sighed. 'The healers confirmed that there is naught they can do to save their bodies, but the spirits of these people are strong. They are resolved to journey with us on the morrow, and fight the pull of death most desperately. There is one in particular who has declared he will not die within his ruined city and be buried beneath its crumbling towers. Sadly, he is the one who is suffering most grievously. They say he was injured as he attempted to rescue several others who were trapped inside a burning building. It is doubtful if he will survive the night. '

Looking over to where Legolas discretely indicated, Thranduil saw one of their healers kneeling beside a still figure laid out upon the floor. A light elven blanket now covered the young man's body, leaving only his head and shoulders visible. The flesh up to the man's neck and one side of his face was scorched black, the other side was ashen and bore a red scar across the cheek. Staring up at the ornately decorated ceiling, the man's one good eye twitched as a grimace of pain contorted his features.

His own sharp eyes fixed upon the burnt face Thranduil frowned, for there was something familiar about the brown shade of the man's eye as tears pooled over it. Walking towards the prone figure, the Elvenking dismissed the healer with a slight nod. As the Elf moved away Thranduil knew when his presence had been noticed by the injured man – the brown eye slid from its focused attention on the ceiling to glance in his direction as he knelt down beside the man.

'O King, I do not think your magic can help me this time.'

The hoarse, rasping words were whispered so quietly that only Thranduil's keen elf-ears permitted him to hear them. Gazing intently at the man, his frown grew deeper as a fleeting moment in his long memory surfaced and recognition dawned.

'Master Bain,' he said softly.

His charred lips trying to smile, Bain looked up at the Elf who had healed his bird all those years ago when he was a small child.

'I am surprised you recognised me,' he breathed out painfully. 'My appearance is much altered since last we met. But you have not changed.'

'Outwardly perhaps, but I hope I have grown wiser with each passing year,' Thranduil commented lightly before he looked unflinchingly at Bain's tortured and deformed skin. 'Do you require something more for the pain?'

A slight shake of his head was the most Bain could do to accompany his grateful, 'no, I thank you,' before he paused to take in a breath, a harsh scraping noise that sounded like it was dragged excruciatingly into his lungs.

'Perhaps some water,' Thranduil offered kindly.

Bain eyed the tall bowl on a nearby table, but again shook his head. 'I fear I could not swallow it.'

The heavy sound of the rain lashing the roof of the Hall suddenly increased in volume, the noise causing Bain's eye to lift towards the ceiling once more. After a moment he spoke again, even though every slow word was clearly an agony for him to speak.

'I always loved being outside during a storm. The rain would blow in my face whilst the wind howled throughout the valley. Others may fear the thunder and fierce gales, but for me they evoke a memory of when grief was replaced by hope. The day I lost Astrid, you remember her,' (Thranduil nodded patiently), 'I was devastated. She had grown old and yet I was still a child. Mother tried to explain but I would not listen. I ran towards the forest, believing one of your people could bring her back. A violent storm came as I reached the pinewoods. Several trees were crushed by its force, and yet I emerged unscathed. As I gazed at the devastation about me I spied a small nest flung upon the ground. Inside was a fledgling, a small thrush, who bore a likeness to my Astrid. I took her home and raised her. She was my friend and most faithful companion. Whenever a storm came she would perch upon my shoulder and sing as I stood in the rain. She was named Gísla.'

The name fell weakly from Bain's lips as his eye closed wearily, and a single tear escaped to trickle down into his hair.

'She is gone now,' he whispered. 'The day the dragon came I had left her alone in my home as I went to buy bread. The creature's fire blazed through the streets with such swiftness that the house was engulfed in flames within moments. I could not save her. Just as I could not save the poor souls two nights afterwards when the dragon came again and set the rest of the main thoroughfare alight. The sound of their screams haunt me! I hear them even now when my mind dwells not in the land of dreams. They pierce my heart until it must shatter into a thousand pieces.'

A shuddering gasp abruptly caught in Bain's throat, and to Thranduil's eyes it was clear the man's spirit would not remain bound to his body much longer.

'Would that I could hear once more the sweet song of my Gísla ere I die, so that I need not take my last breath with such torment in my head!'

The despairing plea had barely left Bain's lips when a gentle shift in the air informed Thranduil that Legolas had come forward, and had seated himself close to Bain's other side.

Then Legolas began to sing a soft sweet melody that resembled the happy trilling of a thrush.

Bain did not open his eye to see whence the beautiful sound came, but sighed deeply as he murmured, 'Gísla.' The peaceful expression that spread across his face revealed the depths of his relief, and this was increased when Thranduil leaned forward, placed a gentle hand on his brow, and whispered a string of words in elvish.

'I see you my little friend.' Bain's voice continued to fade with every word. 'Now I need not be alone in the rain. It is cold, and yet I am warm. Sing for me, my friend – pray, sing for me.' And as he breathed out the last word, Bain's head fell limp. He did not speak again.

For a moment both Thranduil and Legolas knelt with their heads bowed. Then Legolas said quietly, 'he did not desire to be buried here, Father. What are we to do with his body?'

'We shall bear it hence and lay him to rest over the hills to the south,' came the solemn reply. 'And should any other life pass away this night the same shall be done for them. We will not leave them here like discarded carrion for any evil beast to find and devour.'

Thranduil had scarcely finished speaking, when over the fierce sound of the storm there came a great and terrible noise: a deep ominous rumbling from the heart of the Mountain that reverberated through the ground and set it atremble.

'He is coming.'

At his father's words Legolas turned pale, and his blue eyes widened in fear as he made to remove the bow slung over his shoulder. Upon seeing this Thranduil reached out and grasped his arm firmly.

'Do not allow terror to conquer your good sense, Legolas,' he said sternly. 'You cannot engage the dragon in battle when to do so would betray not only the whereabouts of these people, but our presence here as well. Have the company douse all lights within the building, not a single candle is to remain burning. And have the women and children moved quickly to the cellar – there at least they should be safe, and the depth will conceal any cry from an infant.'

As Legolas swiftly moved to carry out the order, Thranduil turned his attention to the other grievously injured people in the room who had begun to panic; their groans of pain as they moved dangerously increasing in volume, and sure to be heard by the dragon when he emerged from the Mountain. Quietly murmuring a chant in his own elf-tongue Thranduil soon had all the wounded placed into an enchanted sleep. Within the pleasant dreams that now surrounded their minds no feeling of pain or images of terror would torment them.

As the women and children were hurriedly shepherded down to the cellar a loud roar of sound split the air as the dragon flew over the ruined city.

'Make haste, gentlewomen of Dale,' the Elves whispered to the tearful mothers, and some lifted the smaller children into their arms to hasten the line.

Through the shrouded windows on the eastern side a blaze of red light suddenly glowed. A violent crash was heard as another building toppled to the ground, and then came the dreadful hiss of dragon laughter.

'Come, fine folk of Dale, do not seek to hide from me,' came the sneering voice of the fire-drake. 'Your battlements could not withstand my strength and all your brave warriors I have burned or eaten. Do none of you dare challenge me? I, who have destroyed your great city and feasted on your most beautiful maidens. Shall you not attempt to take vengeance upon the new King under the Mountain? Which gallant man that yet lives among you will be so bold as to face me, Smaug, the greatest of all dragons?'

The arrogant words were soon followed by a series of horrible snorts of amusement as the dragon circled the darkened city of Dale.

'How you cower away in your holes! Very well, I shall seek you out as a wolf sniffs out its prey, and then devour you like the sheep you are!'

There was a bellow of wicked delight and then the sound of Smaug swooping low across the city in search of his next meal.

Exiting the back room into the main hall, Thranduil knew a deep sense of relief when he saw Legolas walking across the large room towards him. His son was leading a small group of women and children, and bore a young girl in his arms.

'Take them below,' Thranduil instructed softly, 'and Legolas, ensure that none leave the cellar until the dragon returns to the Mountain.'

Silently acknowledging the order with a brief nod the prince of Mirkwood led his charges away.

A long and dreadful time then passed for the scattered populace of Dale as they hid in their various places of concealment, anxiously waiting for the dragon to grow weary of his hunt and depart. The howling winds of the storm only served to increase the tense atmosphere, and inside the Assembly Hall the Men of Dale who stood near the gathering of Elves began to grow restless. The pounding of the rain against the windows seemed to join with the loud thud of their heartbeats as they peered up into the dark shadows of the hall's ceiling.

Smaug's raucous laughter never stopped, nor did his boastful remarks that followed the sound of another building being reduced to rubble by his monstrous tail.

Then, just when it felt like one of the Men must surely break and bring fire down upon them by yelling for the dragon to have done with his game, a shrill piercing scream rent the night air.

Smaug had found a new victim!

'What a lovely and delicate morsel to find hidden among the sludge.' The dragon's gloating voice was hideous in its malevolence. 'A tasty mouthful you shall be, fair maiden! After a surfeit of dwarf flesh this morning I crave something sweet!'

Thranduil's hand tightened helplessly on his oaken staff as the woman's next scream was suddenly silenced.

'Your daughters are beautiful to behold, O people of Dale; but they are even more delightful to swallow down,' Smaug declared with vicious pleasure; his words eliciting a series of muffled sobs from deep within the cellar that reached the sharp ears of the Elves – who all felt for the grieving women who mourned the loss of yet another maiden.

A mighty crack of thunder then thankfully put an end to the dragon's desire of lingering, and he departed with a farcical show of pleasantness. 'I bid thee goodnight, good people of Dale. May you sleep soundly in your homes of falling stone. If your lodgings become too uncomfortable you are welcome to join me in mine; I would very much enjoy your company! And such spacious rooms did the Dwarves build within the Mountain – why, there is room enough for you all! Should you not come, I shall not be offended. I will still visit you tomorrow evening.'

And with a final malevolent laugh and vindictive blow of his tail Smaug flew back towards the blackened Front Gate of Erebor.

Once Thranduil had judged sufficient time had passed for Smaug to make his way back to his lair, he quickly despatched his Elves to conduct a search of Dale for any other survivors who may wish to abandon the doomed city.

'We shall leave as the first light of dawn rises,' he informed them. 'Leave no building unsearched. And what manner of transport you may find have it made ready at the southern entrance. We shall make for Esgaroth and hope the dragon will not become aware of the mass departure until several days have passed. As the Long Lake lies some distance away his possessive nature may convince him to remain within easy reach of his treasure hoard.'

The Elves swiftly departed, and throughout the stormy night they thoroughly searched the crumbling buildings of Dale – from what were once the finest stone houses to the humblest wooden stables. Their footsteps passing silently through deep and murky puddles, they paid no heed to the pouring rain that continued to drench them from the top of their fine hair to the tips of their lightly clad feet, but grimly carried out their task.

Finally, as the violence of the storm was lessening before the first watery light of dawn appeared in the East, the Elves declared honestly to their king that they had searched every inch of the city and those willing to depart had made their way to the South Gate. Then the foremost among them stepped forward and held out an exquisitely crafted quiver containing a few arrows, including a perfectly forged black one.

'This we found by the fallen western wall,' the Elf said. 'It bears the crest of Girion, Lord of Dale. But although we searched under every pile of debris we could find no trace of his body.'

With only a quick glance at the discovered item Thranduil directed that it be delivered to Mother Sólveig. 'She has in her care the youngest son of Lord Girion and may be trusted to ensure this will be given to his widow, the Lady Frída,' he said. Then he announced the company should make ready to depart. 'Fortunately the light rain will wash away the lingering scent of our presence and conceal the path we take,' he remarked. 'Therefore, let us make with all speed from this place.'

And so it was that with their wounded and honoured dead laid upon what transport had been found, the majority of Dale's surviving populace found themselves in company with the fair folk of Mirkwood as they passed through the southern wall of the city for the last time. Had time not been of the essence many may have lingered to ruminate on the sad knowledge that they would never again walk the wide cobblestone streets, or sit by the magnificent gold fountain; however, the threat of the dragon could not be forgotten, and so, with only brief glances over their shoulders, the people of Dale left their homes behind and followed the golden-haired Elvenking as he led them through the lightly falling rain towards the Long Lake.

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 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks again for reading. Up next: Legolas seeks answers from his father, and Thranduil's ire is roused by a certain over-learned fool. Until then, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Eru Ilúvatar & his Children**_

Finrod in _History of Middle-Earth, Morgoth's Ring, Part 4 – Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth_ during his conversation with Andreth says: "when we [the Elves] name you "Children of Eru" we do not speak lightly; for that name we do not utter ever in jest or without full intent. When we speak so, we speak out of knowledge, not out of mere Elvish lore; and we proclaim that ye are our kin, in a kinship far closer (both of _hröa_ and _fëa_ [body and soul/spirit]) than that which binds together all other creatures of Arda, and ourselves to them. Other creatures also in Middle-earth we love in their measure and kind: the beasts and birds who are our friends, the trees, and even the fair flowers that pass more swiftly than Men. Their passing we regret; but believe it to be a part of their nature…But for you, who are our nearer kin, our regret is far greater. Yet, if we consider the briefness of life in all Middle-earth, must we not believe that your brevity is also part of your nature?"

He later says in relation to death: "Who imposed death upon you? Melkor, it is plain that you would say…for you speak of death and his shadow, as if these were one and the same; and as if to escape from the Shadow was to escape also from Death. But these two are not the same, Andreth. So I deem, or death would not be found at all in this world which he did not design but Another. Nay, _death_ is but the name that we give to something that he has tainted, and it sounds therefore evil; but untainted its name would be good." The linked note explains this by saying on the mortality of Men: "Death is their fate, the gift of Ilúvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy. But Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope."

 _ **Thranduil easing Bain's passing**_

In Tolkien's writing the Elves are often given special abilities when it comes to speaking or singing. I've mentioned this before (elf-minstrels for example), but with this particular moment of Thranduil's the two quotes that helped shape it are as follows:-

"But Arod, the horse of Rohan, refused the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was grievous to see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that went soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in." _LOTR, Return of the King, Book 5, Chapter 2 – The Passing of the Grey Company_

"There was the sound, too, of elven-harps and of sweet music; and as it echoed up towards them it seemed that the chill of the air was warmed, and they caught faintly the fragrance of woodland flowers blossoming in spring." _The Hobbit, Chapter 15 – The Gathering of the Clouds_

 _ **Distance from Dale to Esgaroth**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 10 – A Warm Welcome_ the Dwarves and Bilbo leave Lake-town by boat, while horses and ponies were sent by "circuitous paths to meet them at their appointed landing-place." In _Chapter 11 – On the Doorstep_ , it says the Dwarves arrived at the place at the end of the third day. They stayed the night and then finished their journey to Erebor the next day.

 _ **Black Arrow**_

The arrow that is found by the Elves is the one mentioned in _The Hobbit, Chapter 14 – Fire & Water_. It says that Bard "shot with a great yew bow, till all his arrows but one were spent…He bent his bow for the last time…drew his bow-string to his ear…[and said] 'Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never failed me and always I have recovered you. I had you from my father and he from of old. If ever you came from the forges of the true king under the Mountain, go now and speed well.'"


	18. Grievous Tribulations

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Thanks again to everyone who is reading this story, and as always a special thank you to those who have added it, or myself, to your favourite/follow list.

This chapter is dedicated to **Beccissss** and **AndurilofTolkien** in gratitude for your wonderful reviews of the previous one. :) I hope you enjoy it.

On a personal note, I'm finally nearing the end of having my thumb fully healed. It's been nearly seven months since the accident happened and the last bit of granulation is taking its own sweet time, but I should soon have a thumb that looks reasonably normal, if a bit lopsided. Unfortunately, I've been diagnosed with PTSD so not everything is going well, however, I promise you all that every chapter of this story will be uploaded.

Now, on to Chapter 18.

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 _ **Part 18 – Grievous Tribulations**_

Throughout the long and arduous journey to Esgaroth the people of Dale were careful to obey every order issued by the Elves: no torches were lit during the evening when their flames could be spotted by the dragon as he circled above their abandoned city; no unnecessary words were spoken; and only the briefest periods of rest were taken until they had passed the low hills that lay at the south-end of the valley.

After the fourth evening had fallen and the dragon still had not appeared in the skies overhead, there grew a desperate hope that Smaug was either still unaware of their escape, or he was jealously guarding his stolen treasure and did not wish to leave it unattended for the time it would take to track them down.

Several more days then passed before the mixed company of Elves and people from Dale approached what remained of the great town of Esgaroth. On the lake many of the tall wooden buildings that had stood on the huge piles made of forest trees had been burned, and the wide trunks now stood bare in the water like a strange variety of bulrush. The proud fleet of ships that had once been moored by the grand docks were now lying smashed along the shoreline; their tall masts broken and the great hulls reduced to kindling. A number of hastily constructed huts already stood near the scene of devastation – a testament to the skill and swift work of both the Elves and the Men of the Lake who came forward to greet Thranduil and the group who came behind him.

'Hail, King Thranduil! Great is our relief to see no harm has befallen you,' Gildoron called in greeting. 'All preparations you requested in your message have been made ready, and the Master of Esgaroth seeks an audience with you. He was injured in the attack and may be found in the largest hut among the others who are wounded.'

'I shall meet with him presently,' Thranduil replied, 'but first let the people of Dale put to rest those they have lost on the journey, and let them be given a warm meal. They are greatly wearied from travel and have not rested properly in many days.'

'The ground for the burial of the dead lies over yonder,' Gildoron said, gesturing towards the land in the West. 'Unfortunately, much of the space has already been filled, for the number of deaths among the people of Esgaroth was very high.'

His eyes surveying the scattered groups along the shoreline the Elvenking could believe this sad statement to be true; and later, as he entered one of the huts for the wounded wherein could be found the Master of Esgaroth, he knew that the number of deaths would soon increase, for sickness had now taken hold of some of the occupants and their spirits were quickly fading.

Upon reaching the Master, Thranduil found him laid up with a broken leg and a nasty gash to his forehead. The elderly gentleman, after stammering a few muddled sentences of greeting, sought to thank the Elf-lord who had succoured his people in their time of need.

Accepting the man's gratitude with a small bow, Thranduil reassured him of the continued assistance of the Elves until adequate shelters against the oncoming winter had been built for all those who had survived the dragon's attack. He then added that until such time as trade was commenced once more between the Men of the Lake and the people of the South any such provisions as his realm could supply would be freely given.

The Master's profuse words of enduring obligation in return for such kindness followed Thranduil as he withdrew from the hut and made his way to where Gildoron stood in conversation with Legolas by the shore of the lake.

'Gildoron, you shall retain command of the company that will remain to assist in raising the shelters,' he said briefly. 'Give what other manner of aid may be required to ensure these people will have adequate comfort come the first snowfall of winter. Food will be scarce, so we shall send what supplies we can provide by water. I suspect the dragon will not target this settlement again, unless he is greatly provoked. Capturing the Mountain was his object, and his assault on Esgaroth seems to have been to destroy any ambition of slaying him among the Men. But, keep a close watch on the skies above Erebor.'

'Yes, O King.' Gildoron gave a small bow, and then asked, 'shall you remain long with us?'

'I have rendered what assistance was within my power to give and must now return to our own realm,' Thranduil said, 'I shall leave ere the shadows of evening fall; therefore, pray have instructions sent to my company that they are to make ready to depart.'

With another bow Gildoron moved away to deliver the order.

Glancing up at his father, Legolas said quietly, 'I am sure our people would understand if you rested here for a night before commencing the journey home. You have barely relaxed your guard since the day news was brought of the dragon's attack.'

His blue eyes shadowed and grim as they looked out over the Long Lake, Thranduil admitted wearily, 'with you I may be honest, my son. The stench of dragon fire has haunted me since first I smelt it in Beleriand long ago; and having endured its foul odour these past days I find my mind can bear it, and the scent of death, no longer. What rest I require I shall find within the peace of the woods where only the fragrance of the trees and flowers of the forest may be found.'

'The air hereabouts is quite unpleasant,' Legolas agreed. 'For the sake of the people dwelling here let us hope the smell will not linger.'

'They shall not be troubled by it for long,' Thranduil said, 'within a short period of time they will have become accustomed to it and shall no longer regard it. But it will be many years before one of the Eldar can visit this place and not detect the faint remnant of the dragon's evil fumes.'

There then fell a brief silence between father and son as they gazed out at the blackened remains of Esgaroth. More than any foul odour in the air, they both knew that the ruined piles in the middle of the lake would forever bear witness to the devastation inflicted by the dragon.

The approach of one of the Elves a short moment later drew their attention. Returning the Elf's greeting, Thranduil then enquired as to his purpose in seeking him out.

'By your leave, O King, the winged messengers from our borders bring word from Voronwë.'

At the mention of the great elk who had reluctantly remained behind in the forest whilst they journeyed to Erebor, both Thranduil and Legolas smiled.

'And what says our noble friend?' the Elvenking asked.

'He says that he will make his way down the Forest River to meet you as you journey up towards your Halls,' the Elf replied. 'Apparently he was most insistent that you avail yourself of his services, for he says he will not suffer the indignity of being thought an unworthy mount for you upon your returning home.'

For the first time in many days a merry laugh escaped the Elvenking's lips. 'With so dire a consequence awaiting him should I deny such a behest, how could I possibly refuse!' he remarked lightly. Then turning towards the fast flowing outlet where the Forest River rushed into the Long Lake, he set forth with Legolas to join up with their travelling party and from there to meet up with his faithful friend Voronwë, and thence to home.

O * O

The journey homeward was accomplished swiftly, for neither Thranduil, nor any of his people, wished to delay their return to the more pleasant surroundings of the forest. So it was that on the second day after his departure from the Long Lake the Elvenking entered his private chamber in his great cave with an overwhelming sense of relief. All the folk within the realm of Mirkwood had rejoiced at his safe return, but his wearied spirit was longing for a brief respite in peaceful solitude.

Removing his crown, Thranduil laid it aside with his staff and then slowly made his way over to his bed. Stretching out upon the soft blue coverlet, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The horrific deaths he had witnessed in Dale, and then on the way to the Long Lake, had brought to vivid life the memories he had long sought to forget of those dread days in Beleriand when Morgoth had unleashed his most vile creations – the winged fire-drakes. The terror he had felt upon witnessing the fearsome power of those malevolent creatures destroying the lives of so many of the Eldar was forever burned into his heart; and now he must endure having one lurking perilously close to his realm.

When he had heard and seen the suffering of the people of Dale and Esgaroth it had moved him to lend them his aid; and yet, throughout his time among them, he had to exert the utmost control over his impulse to leave them in their misery and retreat back to the greater security of his Halls. Even when a greater distance had been placed between himself and the dragon, his fear had not diminished. The shame he felt over such weakness haunted him, along with the anguish of knowing one of his bowmen may have succeeded in slaying Smaug had he but permitted them to try. He knew the underbelly of a dragon was its greatest weakness, and whilst it was flying over Dale one of his archers may have pierced through the softer scales to its heart. However, the more logical side of his mind was even now insisting that with the ever looming possibility that the winds of the storm would impact the accuracy of the shot, the risk was too high – that the arrow would have missed its target and only enraged the beast.

Raising a hand towards his face, Thranduil covered his eyes. 'O Elwen, how I miss your comforting embrace and wise counsel,' he whispered brokenly. 'Have I done right? Was it truly concern for my people that guided my decision to not engage the dragon in battle, or was it my own personal fear that dissuaded me?'

Only an empty silence answered him.

A heavy sigh passing his lips Thranduil felt the loneliness inside his spirit increase until a physical ache pressed against his heart. 'Would that you could hear my words and answer me, dear one, then this separation of ours would be easier to endure. But death has stolen your voice from this world, and at this moment you seem farther away than ever before – as forever lost to me as your necklace now shall be.

'Whilst Thrór held possession of it I mourned its loss, but had also become slightly consoled by the possibility that perhaps one day a more noble descendant of Thráin would honour our old agreement. However, with a dragon jealously guarding the stolen hoard I know there is now no hope of your necklace ever being returned to me.' And from behind his closed eyelids two tears escaped to trickle down his pale skin towards his ears.

Since the day they discovered the dragon was in control of Erebor he had sought to conceal his own personal grief behind a façade of cool composure; hardly daring to loosen the stern control over his feelings lest his pain be revealed to Legolas' eyes. Now, his emotional walls were crumbling, and out of sight of his son Thranduil made no effort to prevent their falling. However, before the first warm trickles on his skin had a chance to cool, a quiet voice came from outside his chamber door.

'Father, may I enter?'

Legolas' request had Thranduil swiftly wiping away all trace of his distress, and rising from his recumbent position he did not delay in granting his permission.

Stepping hesitantly into the room, Legolas quickly perceived from the creased coverlet on the bed that he had disturbed his father's repose and immediately began to retreat. 'Forgive me, Father,' he apologised, 'I did not realise you were resting.'

Waving this detail away as of no importance, the Elvenking bade his son to come back. 'For something is troubling you,' he observed in concern. 'Come, peace will evade my own mind if I know yours is not at ease. Tell me what has caused your state of disquiet.'

Accepting his father's gestured invitation for him to be seated on one of the chairs in the room, Legolas then sat a long moment in silence, his gaze flickering between his tightly clasped hands and his parent's patient eyes. Finally, at length, he spoke.

'Father, for many days now I have longed to mention this to you, but of necessity your attention was given to other more urgent matters. Even now, I do not feel I should trouble you with it so soon after arriving home; however, I cannot quell the urge to know the truth any longer. When that young dwarf was speaking to you I overheard his offer to you: in return for your aid he would in turn give to you the silver and pearl necklace. I also heard him mention that you had previously offered payment for it. The suspicion that leapt to my mind as to which necklace he meant was confirmed when you declared that you would not allow it to be stained by the blood of our people. You spoke with full knowledge and no surprise that the Dwarves had possession of Mother's necklace, and I must know for how long you have been aware that it had been found.'

At his son's words Thranduil lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed and sighed. 'I have known since the day I met with Thrór,' he admitted, unable and unwilling to tell his child an outright lie. 'I had not intended for you to ever know, which is why I did not reveal the full details of our meeting to you.'

Legolas stared at his father in bewilderment. 'Why would you wish to conceal the truth from me?'

'I did not feel it was knowledge you should have to bear,' Thranduil answered. 'Thrór would never have relinquished the necklace, and had the dragon not taken the Mountain, and all the treasure within it, by force, he would have kept possession of it until the day his body succumbed to its natural mortality. And had you been made aware of this, I must own to being afraid should the stubbornness you received from me lead you to commit a foolish act. Once before when a race of Dwarves wrongfully took a precious jewel from our people it led to losses so grievous to us we scarcely survived. In my anger and grief I had helped to slay those who had murdered my king for the jewel he carried, and in doing so must be held partly responsible for the act of vengeance then taken by the rest of their kin upon our people.'

'You thought I would seek revenge on the Dwarves who withheld mother's necklace from us and attempt to infiltrate the Mountain to regain it,' Legolas concluded.

'A small part of me did believe that yes,' Thranduil confessed quietly, 'for there was also a part of myself that longed to do the same, and although you are blessed with your mother's gentler disposition there is mixed within it elements of my own temper, which when roused does cause you to react rather hastily at times.'

Although acknowledging the truth of this Legolas could not refrain from saying, 'you still should have told me, Father. While I would have wanted to inflict great suffering upon the thieves who stole the necklace, I would not have chosen to follow such a path knowing the strife it could cause to both you and the rest of our people. More importantly, you should not have had to endure alone the anguish of knowing mother's beloved jewels were in the hands of such a dishonourable creature. For your sake I am grateful to that young dwarf, for his words have now allowed me to share in the knowledge of the true fate of the necklace.'

Legolas then paused to look solemnly across at his parent. After a brief moment he directed a gentle smile filled with affection towards Thranduil, and said, 'Father, you always seek to protect me, to shield me from information that you believe will cause me pain. But I am a child no longer. You have taught me the importance of restraint and good judgement, and I cannot be sheltered forever.'

Thranduil sighed heavily. 'I know it,' he said reluctantly, 'but, of all whom I deeply love, you are all I have left, Legolas. You are truly the best and brightest joy in my life, and I cannot persuade myself to relinquish the desire to protect you from all manner of harm – and I never shall. You are my son, and a good father does not lose his urge to defend and shield his children, no matter how old they may grow to be.'

'Full well do I know how much you love me,' Legolas said, standing up and moving to seat himself beside his parent, 'and there is no doubt inside my heart that you are the very best of fathers. I would never ask you to cease in your care of me, for I know that would be like asking the stars to dim their brilliance; but, please, let me now share your troubles with you. Do not seek to shield me from them, for it would cause me greater anguish to discover that you had been bearing their weight in solitude.'

His blue eyes filled with loving warmth the Elvenking gazed down at his son, and lifting his hand he smoothed a stray hair back from Legolas' brow. 'When you speak so earnestly it is like hearing an echo of your mother's voice,' he said, and lowering his head he placed a light kiss on the top of his son's fair hair. 'Very well, my son. I shall strive to recall that you are no longer a child to be protected, though I cannot promise to always succeed in that endeavour; and there are some griefs and troubles that are too private to be shared – even with one so dear to me as you.'

'I would not ask you to disclose all the personal things closest to your heart, Father,' Legolas said softly, 'but should something happen that disturbs you I hope you will tell me of it first.'

'And I shall certainly try to oblige you, Legolas.'

Realising that he could not hope to get a firmer promise than that from his father, the prince of Mirkwood sighed and leant his head against Thranduil's shoulder.

'I cannot help but think that had it not been for Thrór's faithless behaviour mother's jewels would be safely here within these Halls,' Legolas said wistfully. 'Do you think there is a chance the dragon will ever abandon the Mountain?'

The softly voiced question had the golden-haired king glancing down at his son who was staring at the flickering flame of the lighted torch on the far wall.

'Nay, I do not,' Thranduil answered gently. 'The wealth of the Dwarves far exceeded that of any other kingdom in these lands, and he will not forsake it for a lesser hoard.'

'So there is absolutely no hope now of our ever regaining the necklace?'

'I believe we must resign ourselves to the fact that it is forever lost to us. The lifespan of a dragon is long and slow,' Thranduil observed quietly. 'There will come a day when Smaug will cease to breathe, but as he is young that blessed day lies at a far distant date. And when it does come to pass there shall be in all likelihood another dragon seeking to take his place.'

Legolas was silent for a long moment. Then: 'After how their king treated you I never thought I would regret the absence of Dwarves in the Mountain,' he muttered.

'When compared to the presence of a dragon, I suppose the society of Dwarves is marginally more tolerable.'

The dry comment succeeded in bringing a faint smile to Legolas' face as he continued to stare at the dancing light of the fire and let the warmth from his father seep under his skin. A great weariness was stealing over him and he felt disinclined to move.

Feeling the weight against his arm grow heavier, Thranduil looked down, and upon seeing his son's eyes fixed upon the flame's red glow, an expression of tender amusement softened his features. 'Come, rouse yourself, my child. You are scarcely awake, and you have grown too old for me to carry you to your chamber.'

At the teasing words Legolas shifted slightly and mumbled, 'I shall just rest a moment here where it is quiet.'

Then he fell silent; his deep, even breaths announcing his mind was now dwelling in the land of pleasant dreams.

'"A child no longer" indeed,' Thranduil murmured, slowly turning so that he could gently lay Legolas across the bed. 'Your physical labours were extreme these past few days and you have borne a heavy weight upon your spirit during that time. You ought to have rested ere you sought me out, my dear son, rather than fret o'er what secrets that dwarf revealed.'

And reaching out he lightly brushed his hand over Legolas' fair hair. The young Elf did not even stir.

'You are still a child in so many ways,' Thranduil whispered, and gazing down at his son's face he saw it not in its current state of maturity, but rather as it was many centuries ago when the first flush of youth still lingered in soft, rounded cheeks and mischievous blue eyes sparkled with untainted innocence. 'O Elwen, would that I could shield him always from the ugliness that is infecting this world,' he lamented softly. Then walking to the soft couch that stood near the bed, he lay upon its comfortable length with his face turned towards his sleeping son.

In the distance the fair voices of the Elves could be heard singing a song of lamentation over the coming of the dragon, while the soft flowing sound of a waterfall created a sense of serenity within the Elvenking's chamber.

Ignoring his own need for complete rest, Thranduil kept his eyes focused on Legolas and granted himself the simple joy of quietly watching over his child as he slept peacefully. The once common practice when Legolas was in his infancy had become extremely rare as the long years passed, and Thranduil found he could not deny himself the opportunity to do it once more.

How many hours then passed as he gazed at his son in silence Thranduil would never afterwards be able to say, but he knew that it was a memory he would cherish. And in the days that followed, which slowly turned into months and then years filled with anxiety and perturbing news from the South, he found comfort in recalling the tranquil scene, especially when his son was out on patrol in the forest.

He also fought to overcome his natural urge to protect his son from the grim tidings that he would have previously sought to conceal from him. As he had predicted he was not always successful in this endeavour; but there were occasions when he did take his son into his confidence where the issue was serious, or had affected him quite deeply. To his surprise, sharing those troubles with Legolas brought about a new level of closeness between himself and his son – to the point that he sometimes forgot to restrain his more fiery outbursts in Legolas' presence. One such instance occurred after a short period of eighty years had passed since the dragon's attack on the Mountain and followed the events set in motion by a brief visit by Mithrandir.

The old wizard arrived at the great cave late one mid-Winter's eve with dire news of his findings in Dol Guldur – the least of which was the discovery of Thrór's son Thráin, who having become quite mad from the torture he had suffered at the hands of the Orcs had died with a mind afflicted with terrible torment. Whilst the Elvenking felt pity for any being left to the mercy of those foul creatures, of greater import to him was the revelation that the dark servant of Morgoth, Sauron the Deceiver, was indeed the master of the fortress, and he was searching for all the Rings of Power, along with seeking information on Isildur's Heir.

Thranduil, who had watched the evil beasts within his realm increase to greater numbers with growing alarm, had welcomed his friend's proposal that the other members of the White Council be informed and joint action taken against the enemy. He had pledged his forces without hesitation, for he was ever longing to be rid of the menacing shadow that encroached upon his forest; and he promised to lend his voice in support of Mithrandir's request at the meeting.

Legolas, when he was informed of the tidings within an hour of the wizard departing the Elvenking's Halls, voiced his quiet approval of his father's actions; and when the messengers from Imladris arrived in Spring requesting King Thranduil's presence at a meeting of the White Council to be held at the home of Master Elrond, the prince of Mirkwood had every confidence that the arguments put forward by his father and Mithrandir must surely convince the other members and the head of the Council to support their petition.

It was not long before this belief was proved incorrect.

His mood as black as the storm clouds that were forming over the northern borders of the forest, Thranduil returned from the White Council to his Halls in a state of outraged frustration.

Following his father to his personal library after greeting him at the front gate, Legolas was startled when a stream of fiery insults suddenly flowed off the king's normally well-mannered tongue. Openly contemptuous in his remarks of over-learned fools who would sit idly by and allow evil to rise unimpeded to even greater power, Thranduil did not hesitate to identify the chief offender upon being asked to name him.

'Saruman the Indolent! Saruman the Arrogant!' came his fierce reply. 'His tongue outvenoms all the vile serpents that dwell under the ground! He mocked all arguments and requests put forward by Mithrandir, calling them addlepated and reckless! And my support counted for naught in his opinion. "Thou art king of a wild and unwise race of Elves who are unskilled in any craft, and unlearned in ancient lore," he said. "Besides what value should I place on the thoughts of one who abides safely in his cave and possesses no great knowledge of other affairs outside his own realm." The dismissive attitude towards myself by one whose mental acuity I find increasingly lessened with each encounter I could bear, but his slight to my people I could not and will never overlook! I therefore took extreme pleasure in telling that pompous, sodden-witted old fool precisely what I thought of him!'

Knowing his father's eloquent skill with words, Legolas had no difficulty believing that the entire Council would have been treated to a blistering display of the Elvenking's oratory expertise.

'But did no one else support you and Mithrandir?' he enquired. 'Surely there are others who are of like mind to us and believe that the danger should not be so lightly dismissed?'

'Celeborn and Elrond voiced their own concerns, as did several others; however, Saruman as head of the Council holds the final authority in these matters, and he declared that Dol Guldur should remain unmolested for now as he had no reason to believe there was any imminent danger. His mind has become so overcrowded with knowledge it has clearly left little room for wisdom!'

Observing the flash of blue fire in Thranduil's eyes, Legolas suspected the manner in which Saruman delivered his decision had not sat well with his father.

'What had Mithrandir to say to all this? Surely he objected.'

His brow furrowed the Elvenking owned to being quite bewildered by their friend's response.

'After he first put forward his proposal he sat apart from the rest of us as the meeting continued and smoked a strange herb – "Halflings' leaf" and "pipe-weed" he later called it. Not once did he speak up when Saruman spoke against him, and no argument did he offer protesting the decision. At the last, before the Council was dispersed, he was rebuked by Saruman for playing with his "toys of fire and smoke". His response was to laugh and mention a race of Little People who dwell in the West from whom he had learnt the art. He made no attempt to again address the issue of Dol Guldur before the members all departed.'

'Once he has reflected, Saruman must surely realise his decision was wrong and reconvene the Council,' Legolas offered optimistically.

'Should that day ever arrive they know not to look for my attendance at the meeting,' Thranduil declared, settling himself behind his large desk and reaching for the book in which he kept detailed accounts of his travels. 'To Elrond and Mithrandir I announced that whilst that white crow remains head of the Council I would not form part of it. Let Saruman direct his condescending manner and scornful remarks to others who have a greater tolerance for it, for I refuse to bandy words with such as him again.'

'You – you withdrew from the Council?' Legolas' eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at his father.

'Yes. Of what use is being a member when all that is accomplished is fruitless discussion.' Opening up the large tome on the desk, Thranduil took up his quill, and dipping the end in the inkwell he began to write in an elegant flowing script across the page. 'I assured them I will lend aid should it ever be requested, but I would not waste more of my time away from our realm in a futile effort to convince Saruman that action needed to be taken against Dol Guldur. That wizard would have us wait until the enemy was already within the depths of these Halls ere he conceded there was a danger growing; and all the while he would reside a safe distance away within the high tower Orthanc!'

As Thranduil briefly stopped speaking, the whispering scratch of his quill on the page was the only sound to break the silence. Then, as his hand halted in its smooth movements over the book and reached once more towards the inkwell, he spoke again.

'The foul creatures in the forest continue to grow bolder and are encroaching ever northwards. We must ensure our borders are strengthened, and the number of our patrols increased. Any travellers that seek to use the Forest Road are to be watched carefully, though there are few who now will venture to walk along that treacherous path.'

'And what of those caught wandering within the forest itself?' Legolas asked.

'Any who would deliberately enter our realm whilst this dark shadow lies upon it is either strong enough to confront the dangers he will encounter, a fool, or is himself bent on some fell purpose. The first, if he be deemed to be of no threat to our people, may pass through unchallenged; the second is to be given safe conduct to the forest's edge; whilst the third is to be left to his own fate unless he sets out to target us.' Glancing up from his book with a stern look on his face, Thranduil announced grimly, 'should he be so bold as to do that then he shall be brought before me to answer for his actions; and he will not find me as complacent and apathetic as Saruman has proven himself to be.'

Thus it came to pass that as year followed year, and the troubles in Middle-earth continued to rise, the Elves of Mirkwood grew increasingly wary of all who sought to enter their forest. Heavy enchantments against the spiders were also strengthened around the areas inhabited by them and their neighbours, the Woodmen, who dwelt in small settlements along the western border. And so the fearsome reputation of Mirkwood and its fair inhabitants spread until even the most stout-hearted of warriors would give its shadowed borders a wide berth, leaving only a few friends of the Elves and those in league with the dark presence in Dol Guldur to brave its gloomy depths – that is, until one autumn day when ninety years had passed since Thranduil's withdrawing from the White Council, a small company entered the forest and created a bit of an uproar at the King's Autumn Feast.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** _Thanks again for reading. Up next: The Elves' enjoyment of the feast is disrupted by a group of vagabonds and Thranduil's patience is sorely tried. Until then, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Distance from the Long Lake to Thranduil's Halls**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 14 – Fire & Water_ when Bard's plea for aid reached the Elves it says that the messengers "found a host already on the move, although it was then only the third day after the fall of Smaug". It later goes on to say that when Thranduil "received the prayers of Bard" he had pity and "turning his march, which had at first been direct towards the Mountain, he hastened now down the river to the Long Lake" so that "only five days after the death of the dragon they [the Elves] came upon the shores and looked on the ruins of the town." We can't be sure how far towards the Mountain Thranduil was when he received Bard's message, but it certainly only took him two days to travel to the Long Lake (and that's going the "slower way by foot"!).

 _ **Legolas sleeping**_

Although Elves apparently can find rest even whilst walking about, the same source that mentions this ability, being _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 2 – The Riders of Rohan_ , also mentions that they do indeed sleep (though not in the same manner as mortals). Towards the end of the chapter Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli draw lots to see who will take first watch. Gimli loses and the narrative says: "The others lay down. Almost at once sleep laid hold on them." After a brief comment by Aragorn, it continues: "With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves." It would appear Elves can fall asleep quite quickly!

 _ **Meeting of the White Council**_

 _LOTR – Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Third Age_ : "2850 – Gandalf again enters Dol Guldur, and discovers that its master is indeed Sauron, who is gathering all the Rings and seeking for news of the One, and of Isildur's Heir. He finds Thráin and receives the key of Erebor. Thráin dies in Dol Guldur. 2851 – The White Council meets. Gandalf urges an attack on Dol Guldur. Saruman overrules him."

 _Unfinished Tales, Part 3: The Third Age, Chapter 4 – The Hunt for the Ring_ describes this meeting as "the great Council held in 2851". It mentions that it was held in Rivendell and that: "Gandalf sat apart, silent, but smoking prodigiously (a thing he had never done before on such an occasion), while Saruman spoke against him, and urged that contrary to Gandalf's advice Dol Guldur should not yet be molested." That chapter also contains the brief exchange of words that took place between Gandalf and Saruman at the end of the meeting. _Part 4, Chapter 2 – The Istari_ says of Saruman that he "fell from his high errand, and becoming proud and impatient and enamoured of power sought to have his own will by force", and _LOTR, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 2 – The Shadow of the Past_ has Gandalf saying of him "his knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it, and he takes ill any meddling." Given these descriptions and the words Tolkien had him say to Gandalf at the meeting, I can easily see him getting on the wrong side of Thranduil who would not take too kindly to his condescending attitude.

 _ **Enchantments against the spiders**_

 _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders _has the narrative saying of the giant cobwebs when the dwarves are walking on the elf-path: "There were none stretched across the path, but whether because some magic kept it clear, or for what other reason they could not guess." It also later goes on to say when Bilbo is fighting the spiders that they "suddenly gave it up, and followed them no more…The dwarves then noticed that they had come to the edge of a ring where elf-fires had been…it seemed that some good magic lingered in such spots, which the spiders did not like." It certainly appears that the Elves could use their magic to ward off the spiders.


	19. Uninvited Guests

**AUTHOR NOTE:** Is anyone still around to read this chapter? I'm so sorry it's late! I'll really try not to be so tardy with the next one, although I can't make any promises with the way my life has been going at the moment. As always, thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, with an extra word of gratitude to those who have added the story, or myself, to your favourite/follow list.

To **PegasusWingsVW** and **FramedCuriosity** , I dedicate this chapter to you both to show my appreciation for your encouraging and lovely reviews of Chapter 18. I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

 _ **Part 19 – Uninvited Guests**_

The fine Halls of the Elvenking rang with the sounds of joyous preparation, for the time of the King's Autumn Feast was swiftly approaching. A new shipment of wine from the great gardens of Dorwinion had arrived, and the most delicious aromas were to be smelt drifting from the kitchens. The passageways were filled with merrily singing Elves as they went about their duties, including the newly appointed Captain of the Guard, Tauriel, whose normally solemn mien had given way to a slightly happier one.

It was into this hive of cheerful mirth that there came the first report of a group of strangers wandering furtively through the forest and making use of the old elf-path. The sentry at the gate when he received the news quickly had word sent to his captain. Upon hearing the message, Tauriel hurried to the great hall to relay its contents to Thranduil who greeted the information with a deep frown.

'A small party of Dwarves?' he repeated. 'No member of their race has entered our realm for many years, and now a group attempts to conceal their presence as they make their way along the path built by my people.'

'Their behaviour is highly questionable, O King,' Tauriel confirmed. 'According to some of the animals in the forest they apparently had fires lit the first few nights, but as they drew closer to our main borders they ceased. The hunting party also found a dead hart near the enchanted stream, and a high number of spent arrows where several fawns and a hind had stood. The Dwarves are indiscriminate in their attacks and clearly did not hunt the deer for food, for the body of the hart lay untouched.'

A dark suspicion arose in Thranduil's mind as he contemplated the motives for such behaviour.

'Their purpose for being here must be devoid of honourable intent,' he concluded.

'Shall we apprehend them?'

Thranduil considered this briefly, and then shook his head. 'Their callous and needless slaying of the hart shows them to be cruel, however, until we are sure of their true objective in entering our forest let them be. Inform the parties heading out that for the moment they are not to engage with these vagabonds should they cross paths with them.'

As Tauriel bowed and withdrew from the hall, Legolas approached his father and said quietly, 'you do not think they pose a danger to those who will attend the feast?'

'They are not a great host so the threat they would present to us should they be so foolish as to attempt anything is negligible,' Thranduil replied.

Acknowledging the truth of this Legolas made no further comment. But he did resolve to ensure that all members of the Royal Guard and his own patrol were positioned near his father at the feast in the event the Dwarves proved bolder than expected and attempted some action against them; although as each new report came in of the intruders' behaviour this possibility seemed increasingly unlikely. The unruly group by all accounts was stomping about quite loudly and had taken to hurrying away whenever they heard an elf-party singing.

When the morning of the King's Autumn Feast finally dawned most of the Elves out in the woods had grown weary of the noisy strangers, and hoped they would at least have the good manners to stay quiet that night.

'If we are lucky this rain will have driven them to seek shelter in some hole,' cried one Elf as he leapt down from a tall beech tree.

Unfortunately, it was not long before the Elves heard the unmistakable cry of a dwarf voice followed by the crunching sound of footsteps plodding heavily along the path.

'A plague on these Dwarves and their noisome presence!' exclaimed another Elf in frustration. 'I shall be angry if I have to listen to them during the feast as they bumble around the forest like foolish sheep! Would that we could just capture them and have done with it.'

'I would rather have them at a distance than have to endure their unbathed smell at close quarters,' laughed another.

'Let us hope the sound of our merry-making this evening will finally drive them completely out of the forest,' said the others, 'then we need not concern ourselves with them any further.'

And as the day progressed, and the fattest dwarf could be heard wailing loudly about wanting to lie down and sleep, the Elves grew evermore eager for the bothersome intruders to leave.

'We shall scarce have a chance to enjoy the feast with the rumpus they have been creating,' grumbled some of the Elves as they returned to the cave to fetch some of the food for the celebrations, quite unaware that they had an audience for their complaint until Eglerion stepped out from behind a large pillar.

'My friends, such doleful countenances have no place in the king's halls this fine evening.' Gazing at each face in turn, the fair-haired Elf smiled. 'Come, the Autumn Feast is a time for merriment! Consider, we shall be some distance from the path and thus need not pay any heed to the Dwarves who have shown no desire to leave it. Besides, I am sure their voices will not be heard over the sound of our own once we have all begun to drink and sing our favourite songs.'

'Certainly once _you_ have commenced singing an army of trolls could pass by us and not be heard,' came an unexpected voice from the direction of the great hall's entrance; and turning around the Elves looked to see Thranduil's tall form framed in the doorway.

Gazing at his old friend, the Elvenking added, 'if any may be relied upon to turn a feast into a lively, merry event it is you, Eglerion.'

Quite pleased with this assessment of his skill, Eglerion laughed. 'There is no greater joy to me than to be surrounded by music,' he declared happily. 'And I have composed a new song for this occasion.'

'Spare us!' Thranduil cried, a glint of humour sparkling in his eyes. 'When last you did that the young ones became quite overly merry and did not cease singing it for a se'nnight!'

'Come now, Thranduil my dear friend, would you deprive me of the chance to share my creations with so appreciative an audience?'

'Very well,' Thranduil said with a feigned sigh. 'Though I shall ensure to order extra wine to be served so that it may ease the experience for myself and the others.'

Their natural light-heartedness restored by the prospect of additional wine being available, the Elves standing nearby instantly offered to convey the order to Galion the butler.

An amused smile curling his lips Thranduil granted his permission and then watched as the group hurried away to perform the task – all of them clearly having forgotten their earlier concerns over the noisy Dwarves.

'That was well done of you, to divert their minds to a more pleasant subject.'

At Eglerion's quiet words the Elvenking turned and bestowed a fond look in his direction. 'You overlook your own part in that, my friend,' he replied. 'Besides, I would have all my people happy this evening.'

'They will assuredly be very merry with the amount of wine you are supplying,' Eglerion commented. 'Though let us hope Galion does not mistakenly serve your Dorwinion vintage to the smaller parties, else they shall be falling asleep ere the main feast has properly begun!'

Dismissing this possibility as highly unlikely, Thranduil added, 'as I shall be slightly delayed in joining you all this evening pray remind the revellers that they are not to approach the areas uncleared by our patrols. I have no desire to have them rouse any spiders that may be lurking there this night.'

'I doubt any would seek to disobey that order,' Eglerion answered, 'for there is none among them who wishes to have their celebration disturbed by any trouble.'

It was unfortunate then that trouble seemed determined to seek out the Elves!

When Thranduil finally arrived at the site designated for the main feast with Legolas and the Royal Guard quite late that evening, he was greeted with the news that the Dwarves had abandoned the elf-path and had twice sought to sneak up upon one of the smaller gatherings and waylay its members.

'At the first appearance of the Dwarves our people simply extinguished the lights and moved farther away,' Eglerion informed him. 'The racket those creatures made as they shouted and crashed about in the dark must surely have waked everything in the forest for miles! We thought that they had been deterred from whatever mischief they were planning as they did not immediately follow after the group. But then after a brief respite they again accosted the party as they sat about their fire. This time young Alyan put the foremost among them under an enchanted sleep – a strange small creature it was, with unshod feet!'

'Have they been sighted near to this location?' Legolas asked with a concerned glance towards his father.

Eglerion shook his head. 'The last report said that they have not moved from their previous position. I doubt they will be so foolish as to attempt a third assault.'

'Then let us not spoil the remainder of the night by dwelling upon thoughts of them,' Thranduil announced, and took his place at the head of the long line of feasters. At a slight movement of his hand a great number of bright, cheerful fires suddenly sprang to life and soon the clearing was filled with the joyful sounds of fair voices raised in song as lilting tunes flowed from the musician's harps.

Under his crown of autumn leaves Thranduil's golden hair shone in the light of the flickering flames as he turned his head to observe the happy gathering of Elves about him. A great number were in attendance with their gleaming hair twined with flowers; while the green and white gems on the Royal Guards' collars and belts glinted in the glowing light of the fires. And they all smiled delightedly at the magnificent spread of food set out before them. A considerable amount of laughter was coming from the group seated near Eglerion as they ate and drank merrily, while close to his side Legolas held a goblet of wine aloft as he led his friends in a mirthful drinking song that soon had the surrounding trees quivering with delight.

Gazing fondly at his son's cheerful expression with a smile of great warmth on his face, Thranduil surrendered himself over to the festive atmosphere. He was quite determined not to think on any unpleasant matter for the duration of the feast.

As the night drew on the singing and laughing of the merry gathering grew increasingly louder, and several of the younger Elves began to call for a dance.

'Do we have your leave, O King?' they cried gaily.

Laughing indulgently, Thranduil declared, 'my good people, you may dance with my utmost goodwill!'

Their fair faces alight with pure joy the small group cheered and made to rise – only to halt abruptly as a short, rough figure wearing a sky-blue hood with a long silver tassel stepped out of the dark shadows of the forest and into the well-lit clearing.

Dead silence fell in an instant, and in the blink of an eye the Royal Guard had leapt in front of their king and his son as all the fires disappeared in clouds of black smoke. Their sharp eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness the Elves saw the initial intruder lying motionless on the ground with Calanon, son of Eraisuithan, standing over him. The trespasser's companions were raising a tremendous clamour of noise – calling out strange names like "Dori" "Bombur" "Oin" and "Bilbo" – as they madly ran about in great confusion, blundering noisily over logs and bumping into trees, until the wood was filled with their loud cries. Gradually the din died away as the group stumbled into the gloomy depths of the forest leaving their fallen friend behind.

Glimmers of light flickered into being as the Elves quietly re-entered the clearing and turned towards Thranduil.

'Should we follow them, O King?'

'Let them go for the moment,' he replied. 'My greater concern is what they may have roused with their noise. Have several patrols despatched to check our borders.'

'What of this one?' Calanon gestured towards the old white-haired dwarf that lay in an enchanted sleep upon the ground. 'My King, what would you have us do with him?'

The Elvenking looked down at the still form with a grim expression. 'Were it not for the possibility that he would be devoured by those accurst spiders I would say leave him; however, no enemy deserves such an unpleasant death. When the patrols have returned from their search have him brought before me in my halls. Thrice now they have approached us like thieves filled with dubious intent, and I would have the truth from this one as to the reason for such behaviour – along with an explanation as to how he comes to carry a sword made by the elven-smiths of Gondolin!'

Accepting the beautiful scabbard that had been removed from the dwarf's belt, Thranduil withdrew the sword by its jewelled hilt and carefully examined the runes carved into the silver blade. 'It bears the name Orcrist. A most famous blade amongst our kin who dwelt in Beleriand; and not one you would expect to find in the possession of a dwarf.'

Sheathing the blade once more, Thranduil handed the sword to Legolas, and said, 'I place it in your safekeeping for now, my son.' Then turning to face the other Elves, Thranduil informed them regretfully, 'I fear our feast must be postponed, my friends, until this matter is put to rest. However, I will not allow this incident to deprive you of all pleasure. Let the banquet remain and you may continue with your merrymaking, but be on your guard.'

'Shall you stay and grant us the honour of your company, O King?'

'Sadly, not this night, given these untoward events,' Thranduil replied. And taking his leave of the group, he turned and made his way back to his cave accompanied by his guards and Legolas.

O * O

It was a solemn and quiet party of Elves that marched into the Elvenking's hall in the late hours of the following evening. The patrols had returned from their long search of the borders, which had revealed a colony of deeply agitated spiders, along with a large number of dead ones littering the ground. Some of the deaths had clearly been inflicted by the other Dwarves, for their heavy footprints were stomped deep into the ground surrounding the foul corpses; but the unusual thing was that the other bodies bore all the signs of having been slain by an elven blade wielded by nimble and quick hands, and no one was taking credit for the astonishing feat of having defeated over a dozen of the creatures.

After having further decreased the number of spiders, the Elves had returned to the place where the captured dwarf still lay in an enchanted sleep and waked him without ceremony.

The dwarf had been exceedingly arrogant when the last vestiges of the enchantment fell from him, demanding to be released in a loud voice and declaring they had no right to hold him captive.

'We have the right to hold any being who enters the realm of our Lord and King under a shroud of suspicion, and who may in fact be seeking to commit an act of violence against him,' came the curt reply. And having bound him tightly and placed a blindfold over his eyes, they took him to their king's palace as they had been ordered – though with little gentleness, for his dark mutterings had quite dispelled any trace of sympathy they may have felt over his bedraggled appearance.

Through the long, twisting passages of the cave the Elves marched swiftly in their eagerness to be free of their prisoner's surly attitude. Unfortunately, a blindfolded dwarf is not the most graceful of creatures and this one stumbled several times, including when he passed through the doorway into the great hall and so into the presence of the Elvenking who sat upon his throne with a crown of berries and red leaves on his golden hair, and held the carven staff of oak in his right hand. Therefore, it was from a sullen and angry face that two dark eyes glared up at Thranduil as the blindfold was removed.

Staring impassively back at the dirty and dishevelled prisoner, Thranduil did not rise from his throne, for this was no guest to be treated with every courtesy, but one of the vagabond dwarves that had troubled his people on several occasions. However, upon observing the weary bent of the dwarf's shoulders, he ordered, 'release his bindings. Alone and unarmed, he is of no threat to me within my own halls.'

As the ties around his wrists were loosened and removed the dwarf did not display any gratitude for such leniency. Instead, he rudely spat out a string of words in the Common Speech of the West.

'Master Dwarf, you would be wise to cultivate a more civil tongue, especially when you and your folk have been trespassing in my kingdom,' Thranduil said warningly.

'We did not trespass,' the dwarf retorted.

'You entered without my leave, and with no open declaration as to your intent. Were our positions reversed would you not call that a crime of trespassing?'

The dwarf glowered but did not answer.

Gazing down at the sullen creature, Thranduil observed a gold chain hanging around the dwarf's neck. 'Your finery denotes you are either someone of importance, or a thief who has robbed another of their rightful possession. Which are you?'

Clasping the end of the chain in one large, hairy hand the dwarf declared, 'how I came by this is none of your affair, and you had best make no attempt to take it from me!'

'Even were you to admit you had stolen it I would have no desire to take it from you,' Thranduil said disinterestedly.

'You deprived me of my weapon,' the dwarf growled angrily.

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow in mild surprise. 'That is the normal custom when detaining suspicious folk is it not? Were you perhaps expecting us to leave you armed when your reason for being here is still suspect? And tell me, Master Dwarf, how did you come by a sword crafted in the ancient elven city of Gondolin? Such a treasure does not fall lightly out of the hands of the Elves.'

The dwarf scowled. 'I found it,' he said furiously, 'I did not steal it.'

'And is there anyone who can validate this tale? Apart from your own companions, of course.'

Mute silence greeted this query, and Thranduil nodded. 'Your refusal to answer tells me that you either did not find the sword, or you are afraid of what the person who can support your tale will tell me upon my seeking them out. As such you may consider the sword forfeit to me until you can provide proof of your claim to it. Now, tell me, who are you?'

'One who is hungry.'

'I had not thought dwarves would bestow such peculiar names upon their children,' Thranduil remarked idly, eliciting several laughs from the other Elves gathered in the hall. Then bestowing a stern look on the dwarf he said grimly, 'do not seek to trifle with me, Master Dwarf. You have entered into my realm like a petty thief, and by refusing to identify yourself you have only strengthened our suspicions that your presence here is without good purpose. If you refuse to answer my questions truthfully I shall not hesitate to have you consigned to the dungeons. So I ask again, who are you?'

His features hardened into stubborn lines the dwarf repeated, 'one who is hungry.'

Thranduil's blue eyes narrowed. 'And yet you slew a hart and left its flesh to rot. Your hunger appears conveniently timed. Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their merrymaking?'

'We did not attack them,' the dwarf refuted indignantly, 'we came to beg, because we were starving.'

Thranduil's sceptical expression showed he placed no great belief in this answer. 'Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?'

'I don't know, but I expect starving in the forest,' came the resentful reply.

'What were you doing in the forest?'

'Looking for food and drink, because we were starving.'

'But what brought you into the forest at all?' Thranduil demanded angrily, his patience swiftly evaporating in the face of the prisoner's insolent manner. A long moment passed in silence as the dwarf shut his mouth and refused to answer.

'Very well!' Thranduil declared, a cold sternness entering his eyes. Gesturing towards the prisoner he ordered the guards to replace the bindings upon him. 'Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years.'

After the glaring dwarf had been bound and led away the Elvenking instructed, 'have plenty of food and drink delivered to his cell. He may not have been starving ere he and his companions approached us, but after a day with no food he is no doubt feeling the pangs of hunger. And have a group sent out to apprehend the others in his party.'

'I shall take a patrol and go, My King, with your leave,' Tauriel said as she stepped forwards.

Thranduil considered for a moment and then agreed. 'You may go,' he said, 'but make haste. Do not linger, and do not venture off on your own in the hopes you will find another enemy to challenge. Your task is simply to bring the other Dwarves to me. And do not inform them that we hold their companion.'

Tauriel bowed and left the hall, closely followed by Legolas who had swiftly obtained his father's permission to accompany her.

 _And let us hope these other Dwarves will prove to be more co-operative and honest than their surly friend!_ Thranduil thought, though without a great deal of optimism; and when twelve ragged and weary Dwarves were brought before him the following night they quickly demonstrated that his doubts were well founded.

'These are all of them?' Thranduil asked in his elf-tongue, looking over the dishevelled group who bore traces of the spiders' thick, unpleasant webs on their clothes and in their hair and beards.

'They are all that escaped the colony of spiders,' Tauriel said. 'We found them as they made to return to the old path.'

'Did they offer any resistance?'

'No, they surrendered without a fight.'

Grimly observing the prisoners who trod tiredly behind their captors Thranduil ordered, 'unbind them, for they are quite weary, besides they need no ropes in here. There is no escape from my magic doors for those who are once brought inside.'

When the last of the bindings and blindfolds had been removed from the Dwarves they all stared grumpily up at Thranduil, and in a show of exhausted defiance sat themselves down upon the ground with as much clatter and noise as possible.

Undeterred by their ungracious behaviour Thranduil began to question them all in the Common Tongue, asking where they came from, and where they were going to, about their doings in the forest, and their purpose for venturing inside his borders; but he got little more information out of them than from the other dwarf. Surly and resentful they refused even to give their names, and were making no effort to be polite.

'What have we done, O King?' said the old dwarf with the white beard and scarlet hood. 'Is it a crime to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and thirsty, to be trapped by spiders? Are the spiders your tame beasts or your pets, if killing them makes you angry?'

The last scornful question with all its hateful implication that he was himself allied with the spawn of Ungoliant broke the final threads of Thranduil's patience, and his fury was apparent when he glared icily at the insolent dwarf before him. 'It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave,' he said sharply. 'Do you forget that you were in _my_ kingdom, using the road that my people made? Did you not _three_ times pursue and trouble my people in the forest and rouse the spiders with your riot and clamour? After all the disturbance you have made I have a right to know what brings you here, and if you will not tell me now, I will keep you all in prison until you have learned sense and manners!'

Then turning his furious blue eyes towards Tauriel he ordered, 'take them away and put them in separate cells far from each other. They may be given food and drink, but they are not to pass the doors of their prison until at least one of them is prepared to tell me the truth behind their presence here.'

As the guards hastily removed the Dwarves from the hall Thranduil stood up from his throne, and without another word withdrew to his private chamber. He was followed closely by Legolas, who wisely did not speak whilst his father stared into the dancing flames of the fire burning in the large hearth, his anger still quite palpable.

A long moment passed in silence before Thranduil finally said in a soft voice, 'their insolence grows more intolerable with each generation. Those accurst spiders my pets! I would not have thought such an evil suggestion could pass the lips of any being.'

'Their words were extremely callous,' Legolas said quietly, 'and will gain them little sympathy among our people who have not forgotten the injuries you sustained when the foul creatures first appeared in the forest. Let us hope their confinement shall teach them to be more polite. Being isolated from each other in their cells, how long do you think it will be before one of the Dwarves reveals their motive for being here?'

'They are an extremely stubborn and hard-headed race, so they may never confess to their real purpose.' Thranduil's expression was grimly resolved as he said, 'had their motive for being here been pure they would not have sought to conceal it from me. Therefore, they shall sit in my dungeons until death comes to claim them, or until weariness of their unending imprisonment and isolation forces them to tell me why they, with deliberate intent, entered my realm – which revelation shall either see them escorted to the forest border with a stern warning to never again set foot inside it, or returned to their cell for a period I deem appropriate for any serious crime they may have sought to commit.'

'Then let us hope it was simple mischief that brought them hither to our lands,' said Legolas, 'and that they will soon confess to it, for their sullen and rude manner will prove a sore trial to the guards assigned to them.'

'The prisoners shall not require a constant watch placed upon them,' Thranduil remarked, 'even Dwarves lack the skill to break through solid stone and thick oaken doors with their bare hands. The guards need do no more than take their meals to them. At all other times they may be left alone.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks again for reading. Up next: After dealing with mysteriously disappearing food and surly dwarves in his dungeons, Thranduil is looking forward to a merry evening of feasting. Until then, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Dwarves in the forest**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 8 – Flies & Spiders _Thorin's party had been walking along the elf-path in Mirkwood for quite a number of days before they came to the enchanted stream (where Bombur fell into it!). It later says that "about four days from the enchanted stream they came to a part where most of the trees were beeches." After a bit of description it goes on to say: "Sometimes there was singing in the distance too. The laughter was the laughter of fair voices not of goblins, and the singing was beautiful, but it sounded eerie and strange, and they were not comforted, rather they hurried on from those parts with what strength they had left. Two days later they found their path going downwards…." And it was the next night that they three times crashed the feasting of the Elves leading to the capture of Thorin. The things they are reported to have done (ceasing to light fires, killing the hart, etc) are also all mentioned in the book – though of course the real reason for their actions were not as sinister as the Elves suspected.

Thorin was also not taken captive until the day after he was put into an enchanted sleep: "All the noise of the dwarves lost in the night, their cries as the spiders caught them and bound them, and all the sounds of the battle next day, had passed over him unheard. Then the Wood-elves had come to him, and bound him, and carried him away."

As Tolkien described Balin as "old-looking" and possessing a white beard I have given the same traits to Thorin who is Balin's elder by 17 years. Also, with the colour of their hoods these are all taken from the first chapter of _The Hobbit_.

 _ **Imprisonment of the Dwarves**_

Most of Thranduil's conversation with Thorin and then the other Dwarves comes directly from the book, chapters 8 and 9, as does mentions of how the Dwarves were treated and how they were all kept in separate cells in different parts of the palace.


	20. An Astonishing Development

**AUTHOR NOTE:** My heartfelt gratitude goes out to all of you who are continuing to support this story, and to those who have added it, or myself, to your favourite/follow list, you have my deepest thanks.

To **dreamgoneby, PegasusWingsVW, FramedCuriosity** and **MaryBeth7** there is no way to adequately say how much I appreciate your wonderful reviews. Your kind words gave me the motivation to keep slogging away at the keyboard when I really didn't feel like it, and all I can do to say thank you is dedicate this chapter to you all. I hope you enjoy it. :)

I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to my late father. Today (20 Oct) is the anniversary of his death and I can only hope that he (as a Tolkien fan) would have liked this story.

* * *

 _ **Part 20 – An Astonishing Development**_

Two weeks had passed since the thirteen Dwarves had been imprisoned, and save for some strange reports from Eraisuithan that Tauriel had taken to talking with the shorter of the two blue-hooded, yellow bearded ones, there had been no major disturbance in the palace to cause the Elvenking any concern.

'But, My King, I swear to you I counted the loaves of bread myself!'

Only minor annoyances.

'So you have said on many occasions, Arandur. And yet, I continue to receive reports from Tauriel that the guards have returned from their patrols to find insufficient bread on their tables, along with a shortage of fruit and other foods.'

The dark-haired Elf in front of the Elvenking was almost in tears as he said desperately: 'I know not how it occurs, but on my honour, O King, I have taken to rechecking the tables myself. Each time there remains the correct amount. I do not know what more I can do, or who may be taking the food before the guards arrive. Galion has taken to teasing me about my ghost, and even the guards seem to think there is one haunting the passageways. They have said that sometimes a thin shadow appears to flicker in the deep shadows of the torchlight, but though a search is conducted they always find naught but empty air.'

Thranduil looked long and hard at his steward, his keen eyes seeming to pierce into the other Elf's mind. Finally he sighed.

'Be at peace, Arandur. I see there is no deceit in you. It would appear we simply have a cunning little thief wandering these halls.'

Greatly relieved that he was not to be reprimanded, the king's steward said, 'perhaps I should arrange a sentry to stand constant watch over the tables.'

An amused laugh, like that of the sweetest birdsong, escaped Thranduil's lips. 'A sad day it shall be when I begrudge a few morsels of food to a starving unseen spirit – though what use they would have for nourishment is beyond my ken. Tis my belief we merely have an especially hungry youngling roaming the palace, for several arrived with their families from the forest ere these events began to occur. We have food enough to share so we shall not terrorise the little ones. The solution to our dilemma, and to spare me yet another lengthy report from Tauriel on the issue, is for you to ensure extra amounts are added to the guards' tables.'

Arandur bowed. 'It shall be done, My King.'

'You may go.'

The steward turned to leave the antechamber when Thranduil added with evident humour, 'and, Arandur, be sure to increase the sweetmeats as well. Legolas was ever fond of them, and I doubt there exists a child who would not prefer them to bread.'

Another week then passed; and both Thranduil and Arandur were relieved when no further complaint about the guards' shortage of food was received from Tauriel. Indeed, despite a number of sweetmeats disappearing, the extra amount had greatly cheered the guards who consumed them with pleasure. However, in place of that mild issue a more tiresome one arose. The first dwarf captured had initially become quite subdued after the first week of his imprisonment, his arrogant tone quite disappearing when he spoke to the guards; but recently his spirits had revived again, and the return of his haughty tone had been enough to convince those Elves assigned to him that he would not be confessing any time soon.

'Not that we care if he should choose to scowl at us this evening,' Legolas was told quite cheerfully as some of the guards led by Hérion, the chief guard, walked by him with the prisoners' evening meals. 'The king has declared we may all partake in the great autumn feast once our duties are done. We just cannot decide whether to remain in the halls or join the gathering in the woods!'

Legolas laughed. 'My friends, the light of the new day shall be fully risen on the morrow ere we have ceased our celebration. Why not enjoy both?'

'Now that is a fine idea,' the guards cried, and voicing their thanks for the suggestion continued on their way towards the old dwarf's cell with a burst of song.

 _Walking o'er stone and grass,_

 _nimbly do we lightly pass;_

 _Ever seeking to dance and sing,_

 _about the joys of autumn and spring._

Turning into another passageway, Legolas followed the sounds of more laughter and merry singing coming from the main dining hall. Upon entering the brightly lit room he beheld his father seated at the head of the long table, a magnificent feast laid out before him, and with many of their people gathered around to engage him in conversation.

Unsurprisingly it only took a brief moment for Thranduil to notice his son's presence, and with a welcoming smile, he called Legolas over to take his place at his right side.

'I had begun to think you had reconsidered joining us here and would be accompanying your other friends out in the woods,' Thranduil said.

'Pardon my late arrival, Father, I was speaking with Tauriel and then stopped briefly to speak with some of the guards.'

Hearing an unusual tenseness in his son's voice at his mention of the young Captain of the Guard, Thranduil looked at him closely. 'All is well, I trust?' he asked gently.

'I am concerned for her.'

At Legolas' quiet response the other Elves who sat nearby tactfully turned away to converse with their neighbours, leaving father and son to their private discussion.

'You know she has been frequently speaking with one of the Dwarves.' Legolas glanced towards Thranduil who nodded.

'Eraisuithan has made me aware of that fact.'

'I have happened upon her standing outside his cell several times, and on each occasion he speaks fair words to her that would appeal to any heart afflicted by past sorrow. He talks of noble promises made, and with silver-tongued flattery has drawn some information from her.'

'Do you fear she shall be deceived into revealing something important,' Thranduil asked, 'or that the dwarf shall somehow prevail upon her to aid him and his kin in an escape?'

'No!' His expression conveying his deep shock at even the mere suggestion of Tauriel betraying his father so badly, Legolas emphatically declared, 'she would never behave so dishonourably.'

'Then what is it that disturbs you so greatly?'

'I fear what may happen to her whilst her mind is distracted by this dwarf. During our patrol today she leapt between myself and a spider as I went to loose my arrow. Never before has she committed such a foolish act.'

Thranduil's eyes sharpened. 'Did her action endanger you, or any of the others?'

'Mercifully they did not,' Legolas sighed, 'but many of those in my patrol who witnessed her doing it are now concerned that she may do it again and put them at risk. They may even approach you to have her removed from her post.'

Raising the goblet in his hand, Thranduil took a slow sip of wine before saying, 'should they do so I will not revoke my appointment of her. She is young and impulsive, but as you correctly noted at the time you recommended her, her skills are exceptional. She shall receive a reprimand for her thoughtless action today, along with a caution to be more guarded in her speech with the dwarf. However, should she continue to behave in this manner, or commit an infraction I simply cannot overlook, I shall have no other recourse but to remove her as Captain of the Guard.'

'I understand.' Glancing up at his father Legolas asked, 'do you wish me to send for her?'

'Nay, such solemn talk can keep until the morrow; for now, let us all enjoy this night when there are no wandering Dwarves to disturb the celebrations. Put aside your worries, my son, and think not on them again this evening.'

At these words from his father a small smile appeared on Legolas' face. 'I do not think I will have a chance to do otherwise. Eglerion has promised us a new song and we are to judge its merits before we call an end to our merrymaking.'

'A most diverting event that shall prove to be,' Thranduil commented in some amusement. 'His songs have become renowned for their nonsensical phrases, and quite often I find myself puzzling over some new word he has created.'

'I believe there are to be several on this occasion,' Legolas remarked.

'Dear me, one is usually quite enough! He must have felt particularly inspired,' Thranduil said with a laugh. 'I shall be sure to request that Galion sends up a generous amount of wine to help us endure the experience.'

O * O

During the long night of feasting the Elvenking's request to his butler was closely adhered to, and the wine from his well-stocked cellars was in constant demand from the merry gathering of Elves. By the early hours of the following morning a great number of empty barrels had replaced those that had been sent down to Lake-town the previous evening, and the Elvenking's halls rang with the sound of fair voices raised in joyous laughter and song.

It was into this cheerful atmosphere that a great cry was suddenly heard issuing forth from the dungeons.

Halting all conversations and songs in the hall with a single sharp word, Thranduil turned towards Calanon and ordered him to go investigate the reason for the outcry. Even as the Elf bowed and hurriedly departed the distressed voices increased in number, and shortly afterwards they could all be heard drawing closer to the hall. When Calanon reappeared he was accompanied by several guards who, upon seeing their king, immediately cried out loudly, 'O King! The prisoners – they have disappeared from their cells! We went to deliver their breakfast, but they are gone!'

The change that came over Thranduil at this news was swift and immediate: all concern was wiped from his expression, and in its place was hard resolve.

'Find them,' he said grimly, 'do not leave the smallest crevice unsearched, and post extra sentries at the Gate.'

His people all rushed to obey, and from that hour until evening had fallen the following day not one fair voice was heard singing within the great cave as the Elves all searched diligently throughout the many long and deep passages for the escaped Dwarves. However, not a trace of them could be found, and the guards at the Gate were certain they had not passed through the enchanted doors.

'Where have they gone?'

'How did they escape their cells?'

These were the two most common questions being asked among the Elves, and it was not until Thranduil granted an audience to an extremely hesitant Hérion and a shamefaced Galion that he became aware of certain facts that may have aided in his prisoners' escape.

'You say you both consumed Dorwinion Wine, and in enough quantities to send you both into a heavy sleep? And all this was done when you both had not yet completed your duties for the evening?'

The heavy disappointment in their king's voice was more dreadful to the two Elves than a display of fury, and they could only nod in mortified silence.

'So it is possible the Dwarves, after they mysteriously made it through solid stone and thick oaken doors, passed by you unnoticed in the cellars, and there managed to discover the trapdoors – their only other means of escaping these halls undetected.'

Again the two Elves nodded.

'And was the portcullis ever opened?'

Poor Galion swallowed nervously. 'T-there was a load of empty casks that were sent down the river to Lake-town,' he admitted miserably. 'I-I ordered them to be sent when I was roused from my sleep.'

'And you are sure they were empty?'

'Q-quite sure,' Galion said, 'I had checked them earlier in the evening and had them placed in the middle of the floor away from the rest. The group sent to aid me in moving them declared that some were still full, but I had done the stacking myself and I swear to you, My King, they were empty when I did that!'

'But neither you, nor those who came to help get the casks through the trapdoors, looked inside before you pushed them out?'

Galion could only answer unhappily, 'no, we did not.'

For a long moment Thranduil sternly gazed upon the two downcast Elves who stood before him, and then turned his sharp eyes towards his Captain of the Guard who stood beside Hérion.

'Were any of these events known to you, Tauriel?'

'I must confess I did not know about their consuming so much wine,' she answered quietly. 'I neglected to send for Hérion to receive his report on the prisoners after their evening meal was taken to them. However, I was informed when the casks were to be sent as I needed to authorise the opening of the water-gate.'

'And no reports were received of Dwarves suddenly appearing in the river?'

'No, My King.'

'Then we must conclude that either these Dwarves possess exceptional skill in swimming underwater, or those casks were not as empty as Galion believed them to be when he ordered them to be pushed into the river.'

At his king's words the old butler cringed and immediately began another round of apologies, followed by numerous promises that he would never again drink the wine meant for Thranduil's table – not even to test it! The chief guard was quick to follow his friend's example.

Observing the two penitent faces before him, and having listened to their repeated offers to henceforth forswear all wine, Thranduil finally sighed and held up his hand for silence.

'Your actions were certainly unbecoming to ones of your respective positions,' he said gravely, 'and it is almost certain they in some way enabled the prisoners to escape. Such behaviour certainly warrants your immediate removal from your posts.' Thranduil paused as both Galion and Hérion paled at the disgrace such a punishment would bring upon them. 'However,' he continued more gently, 'you have both proved yourselves faithful in your loyalty to my family since first we came here after our departure from Beleriand. Added to this is your honesty in coming before me to admit your fault without any coercion from another. For these reasons alone I shall pardon your actions, and only issue you with a stern warning to never again be so unwise as to allow your judgement to be impaired whilst you are on duty.' A small, wry smile twisted his lips as he added, 'as for forswearing all wine, I will not command you to do so. But, I will urge you to be more cautious of the amounts you consume in future.'

As Galion and Hérion bowed and fervently thanked him for his leniency, Thranduil turned to the red-haired Elf.

'Tauriel, as you have not long been appointed to your current position I shall not reprimand you for the lax behaviour exhibited by the guards under your command on this occasion; however, do not allow it to happen again.'

Tauriel bowed. 'I will ensure it does not, O King,' she said. 'Now, with your permission, may I take a patrol and search the banks of the river for the prisoners?'

'A search will not be required.'

At the sound of his son's voice Thranduil, along with all the other occupants of the great hall, turned to see Legolas standing inside the wide entrance.

'Why is it not required?'

The demand came not from the golden-haired king, but from the Captain of the Guard – and was therefore ignored as Legolas walked towards the throne where his father sat, and said, 'I ask your pardon for my interruption, Father, but Argalad has just received urgent news from Lake-town. It appears the Dwarves arrived suddenly in the town last night. The report also says there was counted among them a strange little creature, similar to the small folk that once dwelt by the Anduin. In all there were fourteen in the company.'

'And we had only thirteen in prison,' Thranduil murmured, and looking up he informed Hérion and Tauriel, 'it would appear we may have found the one who released the Dwarves from their cells, and perhaps our food thief as well; though how he may have gained entry into my halls to find his fellow companions under the very noses of all my guards concerns me.'

'All sentries at the Gate have been vigilant in their duties, O King,' Tauriel assured him. 'And there has been no reports of anyone approaching the bridge, or roaming the forest since the Dwarves were captured.'

'Then this small being is either extremely gifted in the art of concealment, or there is some magic at play that permitted him to pass through my halls unnoticed.' Returning his attention to his son Thranduil asked, 'what fate has befallen the group?'

'Argalad said that they are at present guests of the Master of Lake-town,' Legolas replied. 'They were received with great enthusiasm by its citizens, and one of them is being hailed as the King under the Mountain. Word is being spread among the folk of Esgaroth that the Dwarves mean to free the Mountain of the dragon, and return the wealth of old to the people, with great stores of treasure flooding once more out of Erebor to neighbouring lands.'

A few of the Elves who were listening gasped in surprise at this revelation; but, an expression of deep scepticism appeared in Thranduil's eyes.

 _Slay the dragon, indeed!_ he thought to himself. _And King under the Mountain? What dwarf rightfully bearing that title would not have proudly declared it upon finding himself at the mercy of an elf? They are naught but a wandering band of vagabonds who could give no good account of themselves, and doubtless are bent upon some act of burglary. Very well! We'll see! No treasure will come back through Mirkwood without my having something to say in the matter. But I expect they will all come to a bad end, and serve them right!_

And aloud he observed, 'a fire-drake is not a foe to be challenged by only a small handful of Dwarves. I doubt their intent is to engage the beast in battle and slay it. Rather, I would say, they will try to sneak past the slumbering creature and help themselves to its hoard of treasure – a move that will surely bring down upon them the wrath of the dragon for being foolish enough to make such an attempt.'

'What would you have us do, O King?' Tauriel asked, and there was a strange note in her voice as she added, 'are we to follow after the Dwarves?'

'There is little reason to pursue them,' Thranduil announced. 'Let them proceed with their fool's errand in Erebor, and see what welcome awaits them there. And yet, let some of our spies be sent to watch over the shores of the lake, and the land as far northward towards the Mountain as they will go. If trouble is to arise due to the actions of those Dwarves I would prefer to be forewarned of it.'

Tauriel bowed. 'I shall ensure that a group is despatched at once,' she said, and quickly departed.

Thranduil then turned his attention to his butler and the chief guard. 'You may go,' he told them, 'and do not chastise yourselves any further over what happened. You have been honest about your actions, and what was done is done; so let us not dwell upon what cannot be changed. But, I shall be most displeased if I hear of something similar happening again.'

Grateful to have their audience with him end on such pleasant terms, both Galion and Hérion were profuse in their promises to Thranduil that they would give him no cause to regret his kindness before hastily withdrawing from the great hall.

Then, having summoned one of his aides to his side, Thranduil gave orders for a large feast to be prepared. 'For I am sure all within these halls will be glad of a merry jest and song after two days of searching for those bothersome Dwarves,' he said, and not many hours later with Legolas seated beside him, he had the pleasure of seeing his people laughing and singing joyously as they ate – with the notable exception of Tauriel, who failed to make an appearance.

'She is most probably feeling ashamed over what happened,' Legolas observed to his father. 'Never before has anyone escaped from our dungeons, and under her charge thirteen Dwarves succeeded. Perhaps I should go find her.'

'Give her time, my son,' Thranduil said. 'Her pride has been hurt, and that can sometimes inflict a more grievous pain than any physical wound. If you do not broach the subject with her, her embarrassment shall soon pass.'

However, over the next two weeks Tauriel's dismal mood was not improved as the raft-elves brought news of the continuing presence of the Dwarves in Lake-town. Then came the day when it was revealed that the Dwarves, led by their leader Thorin Oakenshield (supposedly the true heir to the throne of Thrór), had departed to head for the Mountain.

Thranduil had listened to the message with only mild interest.

'Let them seek what treasure they dare to take from the dragon,' he said, 'their efforts shall avail them little I shouldn't wonder.' And then he turned his attention to the issue of the new nest of spiders that had been discovered near the Forest River.

But it was soon discovered that the news had affected Tauriel quite differently, and her actions would shock the entire realm when it was discovered after a summons was sent for her to attend upon the king later that evening.

The message had been sent after the sun had set in the West, its bright radiance sinking slowly beneath the horizon in a blaze of golden light; and for several hours one elf after another sought to find Tauriel in the labyrinth of passageways inside the large cave without success. It was not until the arrival of a winged messenger the following day that her location was finally revealed, and the information taken to the king as he sat reading in his private library.

'Lake-town?' Thranduil repeated, his book lying forgotten on the desk as he rose to his feet. 'She repaid the trust I placed in her by abandoning her post here in these halls, and all to follow after some dwarf who piqued her curiosity?'

'That would seem to be the only reason for her actions,' Legolas answered quietly. 'Please, Father, let me go after her. She is young, and this dwarf has confused her mind. I know I can convince her to return with me. Pray give me leave to go. And whilst in Lake-town I would also be in a better position to observe what is happening with the Mountain.'

However, feeling betrayed by the Elf to whom he had granted shelter and protection for so many years, Thranduil refused, declaring that he would not send anyone, and certainly not his own son, to chase after Tauriel as though she were an errant child. 'Let her come to the realisation of her folly on her own,' he said.

And for many days he did not relent until two weeks had passed since Tauriel had left, and he could no longer deny the earnest appeals from his son.

'Very well, you may go,' he reluctantly agreed, but added, 'should she agree to return I will not close my doors against her; however, her offence is not one I can overlook, Legolas. A Captain of the Guard's first loyalty is to those they are appointed to protect, and by choosing to forsake her duties here Tauriel has dishonoured her words of fealty to me. I will not be able to fully trust her again after this. When she returns I will have no choice but to rescind my appointment of her.'

'She has behaved poorly,' Legolas agreed with a sigh, 'and I shall not hesitate to speak of my own disappointment when I see her.'

At this last remark from his sweet-tempered son, Thranduil could not suppress the faint smile that rose to his lips. 'With your innate gentleness I fear you will not be sufficiently stern with her, Legolas.' And warmly embracing his child he bade him to be careful, and not to neglect sending word to him when he had opportunity to do so.

Returning his father's embrace, Legolas murmured, 'with Elbereth's blessing I shall swiftly convince Tauriel to return and there will be no need of sending messages to you.'

Placing a soft kiss on his son's brow, Thranduil slowly withdrew his arms and stepped back. 'Go now, my dear son, and may Tauriel's good sense hearken to your words. In love I bid thee farewell, and with hope shall look to see you both return.'

Then, with great affection in his heart, Legolas took leave of his father and departed – unaware of the terrible battle to be waged in Lake-town that night, and the tragic events which would follow shortly thereafter.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again for reading. Up next: Thranduil leaves for Erebor but then receives word the people of Laketown are in dire need of assistance. Until then, take care and be safe.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Duration of Imprisonment, Thorin and Fili & Kili**_

According to Chapter 9 of _The Hobbit_ it took Bilbo "a week or two" in his sneaking around to find each of the 12 Dwarves, and after a while later to find Thorin. After that it appeared to take Bilbo a bit of time to come up with his plan of using the barrels, so overall I estimated the Dwarves to have been imprisoned for at least three, if not four, weeks.

The report of Thorin becoming miserable and depressed only to suddenly regain his haughty manner comes from the narrative in Chapter 9 where it says that he was "too wretched to be angry any longer at his misfortunes, and was even beginning to think of telling the king all about his treasure and his quest (which shows how low-spirited he had become), when he heard Bilbo's little voice at his keyhole…Thorin had taken heart again…and was determined once more not to ransom himself with promises to the king of a share in the treasure, until all hope of escaping in any other way had disappeared."

Chapter 9 also tells us that Bilbo was "always in hiding, never daring to take off his ring, hardly daring to sleep, even tucked away in the darkest and remotest corners he could find … he did not dare to march among them [the Elves] because of his shadow (altogether thin and wobbly as it was in torchlight), or for fear of being bumped into and discovered … inside the caves he could pick up a living of some sort by stealing food from store or table when no one was at hand."

 _The Hobbit, Chapter 1 – An Unexpected Party_ describes both Fili and Kili as having blue hoods and yellow beards.

 **NOTE:** "Sweetmeats" do not refer to food made from any kind of animal flesh. It's an old-fashioned term for candy or confectionery, such as candied fruit, sugarplums, cake or pastry. Thranduil was therefore being quite indulgent in telling his steward to make sure there were extra treats made available for the little hands he thought were responsible for taking the food. :)

 _ **The Escape**_

Chapter 9 of _The Hobbit_ mentions that when Bilbo frees the Dwarves there was "a great autumn feast in the woods that night, and in the halls above. Nearly all the king's folk were merrymaking."

Although Tauriel was made Captain of the Guards in PJ's movie, I decided to make the "chief of the guards" referred to by Tolkien who had a merry drink with Galion the Butler, the head of the guards in charge of the prisoners. He is answerable to Tauriel, who is in turn answerable to Thranduil.

From the description Tolkien gives it appears the Dwarves and Bilbo left the cellars one night and arrived in Lake-town the next. Then in _Chapter 10 – A Warm Welcome_ it says the Wood-elves "had gone back up the Forest River with their cargoes, and there was great excitement in the king's palace. I have never heard what happened to the chief of the guards and the butler. Nothing of course was ever said about keys or barrels while the dwarves stayed in Lake-town, and Bilbo was careful never to become invisible. Still, I daresay, more was guessed than was known, though doubtless Mr Baggins remained a bit of a mystery. In any case the king knew now the dwarves' errand, or thought he did, and he said to himself: "Very well! We'll see! [etc]". He at any rate did not believe in dwarves fighting and killing dragons like Smaug, and he strongly suspected attempted burglary or something like it – which shows he was a wise elf and wiser than the men of the town."

 _ **Dwarves in Lake-town**_

In the narrative of Chapter 10 it says that it was at the end of a fortnight that Thorin began to think of departing from Lake-town. A couple more days appear to pass before they actually do leave. Add on the four days it would take to travel from Lake-town to Erebor and it would be (as I estimate) about three and a half weeks from the time the Dwarves left Thranduil's halls to when they finally arrive at Erebor. Therefore when Legolas is finally permitted to go to Lake-town the Dwarves would have already left, reached the Mountain, found the hidden door, gone inside and disturbed Smaug.


	21. The Storm Clouds Gather

**AUTHOR NOTE:** I do apologise for being away for so long. Grim reality dropped me into a pit as dark as the mines of Moria where I had my own Balrog to face. Then it was bad reactions to medications, a scalded hand and travelling away for medical appointments. I finally got this chapter ready to post and then had some joker doing roadworks cut through the internet/phone cable for our street. They fixed it today so I thought I'd celebrate by uploading the chapter right away. It is a long one, so I do hope it makes up for my lengthy absence. :)

To all of you reading this story I thank you for your support and encouragement, and to guest reviewer **FritzyM4** : even though you're late to the party your attendance is greatly appreciated – especially when you pay me such lovely compliments. ;D

I dedicate this chapter to **dreamgoneby, FritzyM4, mylcas** and **thrndlwood** for your wonderful reviews. They helped get me through a pretty rough time and I appreciate every one.

And now, without any further ado, on to the events in Middle-earth.

* * *

 _ **Part 21 – The Storm Clouds Gather**_

 _Smaug is dead! The Mountain is free!_

The forest resounded with the joyous tidings as they were carried by swift-flying messengers in twittering multitudes across the early morning sky. Even the trees forgot the menacing evil that spread their horrible webs among their branches to whisper the news to the fair guardians of the woods. Several of the spies sent out by Thranduil returned proclaiming the defeat of the dragon – and by a man from the Long Lake no less!

'A great commotion there was at the Mountain last night – such loud, thundering crashes to break the very stones and send them falling to the ground,' reported some of the ones who had watched over Erebor. 'The roar and fire of the dragon's fury was terrible to behold. And when he was finished there he turned southwards towards the Lake.'

'Where he was killed by one of the Lake-men, a bowman named Bard,' chimed in the others. 'The word is that he slew the beast with a single arrow before Prince Legolas even reached the little bay of Lake-town.'

'A feat deserving the utmost praise and honour,' Thranduil said sincerely, his heart having gone cold at the thought of his son being caught in the midst of a battle against the powerful fire-drake. 'Evidently there still exist some fine warriors among the descendants of the people of Dale.'

'What will become of the Mountain?' asked Eglerion curiously. 'Shall you leave it in the hands of the dwarf claiming to be the new king?'

'This news, I fear, must surely mean that it is the last we shall hear of Thorin Oakenshield. He would have done better to have remained my guest,' Thranduil answered solemnly. 'And though these tidings of Smaug's death must give great joy to all who have lived under his shadow, it is an ill wind, all the same,' he continued grimly, 'that blows no one any good; for news of these events shall soon reach the ears of our enemies who will look to secure the position of the Mountain and its wealth for themselves. The ultimate fate of Erebor is therefore yet to be determined whilst it stands unclaimed and undefended.'

Then turning to Eraisuithan and Gildoron who stood near him, he commanded, 'let the word be sent for a legion of our force to be made ready to depart for the Mountain ere the morning light has risen on the morrow. Should the enemy decide to strike we shall not be caught at a disadvantage.'

As the two Elves bowed and quickly went to deliver the order, Thranduil looked down at the slender gold band his wife had placed on the index finger of his right hand on the day of their marriage in Doriath, and thought: _Pray that I may not return once more to these halls without your necklace, my love. Too long has it lain hidden from my sight inside that mountain, an ill-gotten prize of the dwarves and then the dragon. O, that it might be recovered swiftly and restored to its proper home here in our realm._

And so it was that when he set out at the head of his army the Elvenking was quite certain there was nothing that would deter him from marching straight towards Erebor.

But then, three days after the fall of the dragon, there came a desperate request for help from Bard the Bowman on behalf of the poor folk of Lake-town.

The weary messengers had been sent up the river and were brought before Thranduil as the army of Elves drew near the eastern border of their realm; and having been given food and drink to restore their spirits, the men delivered the petitions of Bard to the king.

'Though our people have no claim upon you, O Elvenking, save that of the friendship that exists between us, we beseech you to aid us in our time of need. Our homes have been completely destroyed, and there is not sufficient shelter to protect the vulnerable members of our town from the bitter chill. Many have taken ill from the wet and cold, and food is extremely scarce. Our widows and orphans lie shivering at night, and our wounded suffer grievously from lack of proper treatment. Please, we pray you, have compassion on those who have suffered the wrath of dragon-fire and ruin, and lend us your assistance.'

His heart having been stirred with pity as he listened to the plea, Thranduil gazed upon the tired and worn faces of the messengers, and said, 'good men of Esgaroth, be assured that having now been made aware of your plight, my people and I will gladly offer what aid may be in our power to give.' Then turning to his aides he gave orders for the march to be directed southward towards the Long Lake. 'We shall need to journey through the marshlands, which shall slow our progress,' he said, 'so let provisions be sent ahead of us on the water. Send also our best healers that they may begin treating those who are sick and wounded.'

Several of the aides bowed and hurried away to deliver these new orders as the men voiced their gratitude.

'Your coming will bring hope to many, O King,' they said warmly, 'and your kindness shall long be remembered by our people. Nor shall they ever forget the help your folk gave in rescuing so many of our women and children from the deep waters of the lake. There was one, a daughter of your people with hair the colour of fire, who did not hesitate to return many times to the cold depths to drag out those who had sunk beneath the surface. Then after the dragon was slain there came another, one who bore a close likeness to yourself. He bravely went near to where the foul beast's body had fallen to ensure there were none trapped in the wreckage – my brother's son was one of the first to be saved due to his actions. When we were sent to seek your assistance he had pulled several poor wretches from the ruins, and was about to return for another. He was quite tireless in his efforts.'

At this last revelation Thranduil's sombre expression disappeared as a genuine smile curved his lips. 'The elf of whom you speak is my son,' he said, 'and he would not rest whilst he knew there were those who required his help. I expect we shall arrive at the lake to find him still lending his aid where it might be needed.'

It was therefore unfortunate for Thranduil's peace of mind that his expectation was not realised when he and his army came upon the shores of the lake two days later, and Legolas could not be seen.

'Where is my son?'

At his king's quiet demand, Tegalad, who had been one of those sent on ahead to ensure the safe delivery of goods to the townsfolk, and who had been the first to greet his king upon his arrival, had to confess that they did not know for certain. 'When we arrived he had already taken his leave of the folk here and set out on one of the northern roads,' he answered.

'Alone?'

The question was spoken sharply, and elicited a hasty reply. 'According to what we have heard Tauriel went with him.'

Thranduil did not look reassured by this disclosure; in fact, his lips tightened and his eyes frosted over until they were like ice blue crystals. 'And what prompted him to leave so suddenly, with only a disgraced Captain of the Guard as his companion?'

'We do not know, My King,' Tegalad admitted. 'The Master of the town could tell us nothing that the humblest fisherman had not already done.'

Looking over to where a large, rotund man with an air of self-importance and wearing crumpled robes of fine cloth was making his way towards them, Thranduil placed him instantly as the Master, and perceived the measure of his character at a glance.

 _Unless it was told to him by one of his servants he would be ignorant of any activity that did not immediately impact his own comfort_.

His thoughts concealed beneath a veneer of cold civility Thranduil politely greeted the Master, who lost little time in making it clear he would make any bargain with the Elves that would help secure his future comforts. Concealing his growing disdain for the toadying man, Thranduil dealt with the matter swiftly, as he was more concerned with discovering information pertaining to his missing son.

When the brief negotiations were concluded the Master gestured towards the tall, grim-faced man who stood off to the side, and said pompously, 'Bard has been aiding me in governing our people and directing the preparations for their protection and housing. He shall be quite proficient in organising which of our craftsmen are to remain here to plan and build our new town; and indeed, as the dragon-slayer, he is the best choice for leading the able-bodied men of arms who will accompany you to the Mountain, for he is of the line of Girion, Lord of Dale.'

Thranduil looked with new interest at the man who had been identified as the slayer of the dragon. With his black hair hanging to his shoulders in disarray, and his beard unkempt after several days of hard toil, Bard bore little resemblance to the well-dressed nobleman, Girion, whom Thranduil recalled meeting all those long years ago. The only similarity was his noble bearing and the sharp intelligence shining in his dark eyes.

'Word of your notable deeds have carried far, Lord Bard,' Thranduil said with a bow of his head. His use of the honorific before Bard's name was not lost on those around him, and caused the Master to scowl deeply.

'What I did was in defence of my people and the town, O King,' Bard replied honestly, 'as a bowman of Esgaroth fighting the dragon was my duty.'

'Your humility does you credit,' Thranduil said, 'but I will observe that there are many who would have abandoned their duty rather than face such a deadly foe with naught but a bow and arrow to wield in defence of themselves. Now, my aide Eraisuithan shall select from among my army those who are the most skilled in the different crafts required to aid in rebuilding your town. Once you have chosen the same from among your own people, and they have set about their task, we shall prepare to march north to the Mountain with the remainder of our forces. But, ere you go to make your selection, Lord Bard, I would first ask if you can shed some light on the reason for my son Legolas' hasty departure on a northern road.'

'Aye, that I can, O King,' Bard declared. 'He mentioned to me a dread apprehension that had crept into his mind that a menace would be stirring in the far north. He went to investigate, to see if his suspicion was correct.'

That his son held a fear similar to his own about a threat to the Mountain brought Thranduil little comfort, especially as he knew the treacherous paths that lay near the Grey Mountains. 'Did he say how far he meant to travel?' he asked. 'Was he intending to cross the wastelands?'

'He mentioned riding to the northernmost edge of the forest,' Bard answered. 'As for the wastelands, I could not tell you, but he did request that I inform you upon your arrival that he would be careful. He was certain you would not refuse our plea for assistance, and bade me to pass on his reassurance so you would not be concerned.'

 _I must trust to your sensible nature, Legolas, and hope you will not do anything foolish,_ Thranduil thought, whilst out loud thanking Bard for the message. The bowman accepted the words of gratitude with a simple nod, and then said he would be off to perform his tasks. 'I shall need to ensure adequate supplies are prepared for our march,' he said to the Master, 'but there will be sufficient left for yourself, and those of our people here, to last you some time, thanks to the Elvenking and his peoples' generosity.'

'In the event you do require more inform those Elves who shall be assisting you of your need,' Thranduil interjected. 'They will arrange for them to be sent down the river.'

Evidently pleased with the arrangements that would free him of several responsibilities, the Master did not linger long before taking his leave and withdrawing to his shelter; his loud demands for food and for his fire to be replenished carried back clearly to the sharp ears of Thranduil and his Elves.

'Mind he doesn't eat all the food himself,' one of the raft-elves muttered as he passed his king's host with an armful of blankets. 'The craven popinjay consumes enough in one meal to feed ten of his own folk!'

His blue eyes darkening at this information, Thranduil summoned Eraisuithan to his side and said quietly, 'instruct those left in charge of the food supplies to keep a careful watch over them. The women and children, and those who are ill or infirm are to receive their share first. The Master, and those of his ilk, shall not starve by being kept waiting for theirs.'

Then he turned away to gaze towards the high peak of Erebor, which could be seen above the low hills at the far end of the lake, whilst about him the men of Esgaroth and his Elves busied themselves with preparations for the march. On the morrow they would leave for the Mountain – and for whatever scene of death and destruction the dragon had left behind.

O * O

Thorin and his company had not perished.

The news had been brought to Thranduil and Bard by the first search party who had been sent to check the main entrance to the Mountain the morning after their arrival in the valley. And not only were the Dwarves alive, but they had made a barricade to prevent anyone from entering through the Front Gate.

'By parley will you have to seek recompense for your losses, if that still be your intent,' Thranduil told Bard.

'It is,' the bowman said grimly. 'By their actions they have brought devastation upon us, and are we not entitled to the share of the treasure that formerly belonged to our forebears, the lords of Dale?'

'It is a just and right claim you make,' Thranduil agreed. 'Should these Dwarves possess any of the honour of their old king, Thráin I, then they will acknowledge it.'

'What would you counsel me to do? Should I approach them now?'

'You may make your claim now to him who has declared he is Thorin son of Thráin, or you may wait until the morrow when you have carefully considered what would be a fair settlement.'

Bard considered these words in silence for a moment, before declaring he would approach Thorin the next morning.

'I shall send some of my people with you as an escort in place of myself,' Thranduil informed him. 'My presence will not aid you in your meeting with Thorin, for he would not recall our last encounter with much fondness. Meanwhile, let the camp be moved to the east of the river, between the arms of the Mountain.' And turning to one of his aides he said, 'let the host be merry this night. Long has it been since fair songs were heard in this valley, and as the bells of Dale are silent, let our harps and voices warm the chill on the air and render a more peaceful atmosphere to this barren land.'

And so that night the rocks in the valley echoed with the sounds of elven-harps and beautiful voices raised in song. Many cheerful fires flickered in the darkness, and the mirth and light humour of the elves had the men of the Lake smiling and feasting merrily. However, Thranduil stood outside his own tent with an ever present concern for his son lingering inside his mind, whilst memories of events from long ago played out before his eyes as he gazed up at the stars shining brightly above him, silently watching as they slowly danced across the sky until the faint light of morning caused them to fade away.

It was not long after the arrival of the dawn that he gave orders for a company of his spearmen to escort Bard across the river and up to the Gate. Watching the group leave with his green banner fluttering in the wind alongside the blue banner of the Lake-men, Thranduil did not hold much hope that the dragon-slayer's words would be enough to persuade the Dwarves to acknowledge the heir of Girion's claim.

And so it proved to be.

Returning a short time later to the camp Bard revealed all that had transpired in his conversation with Thorin, including the dwarf's threat to release arrows at the party and his demand that the elf-host depart.

'I would never accede to such terms,' Bard stated, 'for who is he to dictate whom I may call upon to support my people in their claim. I have said I would give him time to reconsider his words, and should he not do so then I shall have the messenger declare the Mountain besieged.'

'Be sure you wish to take that course of action before you order such a declaration,' Thranduil cautioned him. 'Relations between the Elves of Mirkwood and the Dwarves of Erebor were strained long before any of these events came to pass, and so this present attitude of their leader troubles me not at all; but your people once had the friendship of these dwarves, and they may wish to do so again. A feud between you now may prevent any agreements being made in the future.'

'We are determined in our course, O King,' Bard answered. 'If these dwarves will not deliver up what rightfully belongs to another, then their friendship would be a poor thing to pursue. They shall hear our terms again, and if they do not listen, preferring to cherish their gold and silver over the goodwill of their neighbours, then I am determined not one morsel of food shall we permit to pass through that Gate. We would not seek to bear weapons against them, but let us see how long they will last with only the treasure to fill their empty stomachs.'

'Knowing the stubbornness of their race I would not be surprised to hear they were melting the gold down into a soup, and consuming it with relish,' Thranduil said drily, and withdrew into his tent to await further news.

It was many hours later when tidings were brought to the Elvenking by one of his spearmen: Thorin had loosed an arrow into the shield of one of the messengers sent to reiterate the claim of Bard, and thus the Mountain had formally been declared as being besieged.

'Let us hope wisdom shall prevail upon the mind of Thorin ere the first snowfall of winter descends,' Thranduil said to his senior aides that evening. 'This posturing of his is bound to herald disaster for his kin, who will find little comfort in the frigid passageways of the Mountain when all their current supplies run out.'

Unfortunately as the days passed, and the weather continued to herald the oncoming winter, no call for a truce and parley was forthcoming from Thorin and his companions. The ravens who had reclaimed their homes among the rocks had been spotted regularly departing towards the east, but nothing else seemed to stir about the entrance to Erebor.

Then, late one night when the sky was at its blackest, and no moon had risen to shed its silver light upon the ground, Eraisuithan entered the tent of his king to inform him he had a most surprising visitor wishing to see him.

Turning to look questioningly at his aide, Thranduil remarked lightly, 'if it be Mithrandir I am astonished he did not announce himself.'

'It is not Mithrandir, My King,' Eraisuithan replied. 'The sentries on this side of the river caught the intruder as he exited the water. He said he knows you very well by sight, though you do not know him. It would appear it is the hobbit, a Mr Bilbo Baggins, who is said to be Thorin's servant – though he claims he is servant to neither dwarf, nor any other creature.'

'A visitor who wishes to see me, who is not a dwarf, and who managed to sneak past the sharp eyes of my guards posted on the north side of the river,' Thranduil mused, clearly intrigued by the information. 'Very well, I shall speak with him. Is he outside?'

Eraisuithan shook his head. 'The sentries have him near their fire, for he fell into the river whilst crossing it. It would appear the hobbit is not quite so proficient at sneaking across water as he is dry land.'

'It also becomes clear how my guards managed to capture him,' Thranduil sighed. 'Ensure he is adequately dried and given a blanket before he is brought to me. We would not want him taking ill from the wet and cold.'

'Shall I send word to Bard as well?' Eraisuithan asked. 'The hobbit did also say it is the bowman he particularly wished to see.'

'Then let us not disappoint him,' Thranduil said with a tinge of humour. 'By all means, invite the esteemed heir of Girion to attend upon us here.'

It did not take long for Bard to arrive, as his tent was not far from the king's. When asked by his host for some information about their visitor the bowman shrugged, saying, 'we thought him a child at first glance, for he is very short. During the first few days among our people he had a dreadful cold and did not say much. But he was quite polite in his manner, and certainly gave us no trouble. I cannot imagine what it is he has to say to me.'

'You shall soon have your curiosity satisfied,' Thranduil told him, having heard the approach of a light set of footsteps that certainly did not belong to any elf; and walking to the tent's entrance he stepped through the opening to watch as two guards marched a very small figure towards him.

'O King, this is the intruder, Bilbo Baggins, who was captured by the river, and who wishes to speak with you,' one of the Elves said when they came to a halt.

Gazing down from his great height at the little one before him Thranduil almost smiled at the peculiar appearance of the hobbit. As Bard had mentioned he was the height of a young mortal child with a crown of warm brown curls growing atop his head. He wore no shoes upon his feet, which were covered in thick layers of hair; but his face ( _a rather amiable and honest one_ , Thranduil observed silently to himself) was as smooth and beardless as an elf's. He had an old blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and beneath it the Elvenking could see the faded cloth of a green jacket worn over the shimmering glint of silver-steel armour.

 _A coat of mithril!_ Thranduil thought in astonishment. _And one designed and crafted for an elf-prince._

His curiosity heightened, Thranduil courteously greeted his mysterious visitor.

'I bid thee welcome, Master Baggins. I know not your intent in seeking a meeting with us while yet a truce is to be sought by the leader of your company, but be assured we shall not harm you and shall listen to what you have to say.' And when the hobbit suddenly gave a loud sneeze, he said quite kindly, 'pray be seated close by the fire. You shall find it warmer there than inside the tent.'

'Thank you, O King,' the hobbit said politely, with a rather audible sniffle. 'Dear me, it really is a bother not having any clean handkerchiefs.'

In response to this distinctly unthreatening remark Thranduil murmured a few words in his own elf-tongue, and within a moment one of his aides who stood nearby stepped forward and presented a neatly folded piece of cloth to Bilbo.

Accepting the proffered item gratefully, Bilbo hastily put it to good use. When it appeared he intended to return the now crumpled handkerchief, Thranduil held up a hand, saying, 'pray keep it, Master Baggins. I am sure you will have need of it again before this night is ended.'

Directing a low bow towards his host, Bilbo murmured another word of thanks. Then, with a deep shiver, he quickly moved to seat himself by the warm fire and huddled into his blanket.

'I must confess myself to being impressed with your skill, Master Baggins,' Thranduil said with no hint of rancour in his voice as he walked over to his own chair and sat down upon it with easy grace. 'You managed to sneak past our main sentries without detection – a most astonishing feat when one considers the keen senses of my people.'

Under the gaze of the sharp blue eyes turned on him, the little hobbit shifted uneasily. 'I – I do beg your pardon for my lack of manners in not approaching you more openly,' he offered sincerely, 'I will admit it is not the usual behaviour for a respectable hobbit, especially one from Bag-End, but I hope you will understand my position, O King.' Looking bravely up at Thranduil, Bilbo explained, 'although I had been hired by the Dwarves solely to perform a specific task, I will own to having become quite fond of them. I cannot in good conscience let them bring about their own demise when I may have been able to prevent it.'

At this intriguing statement Thranduil gave his guest his undivided attention.

'Your words speak well of your character, Master Baggins,' he said, 'but, if you will pardon my saying so, what possible influence could you have upon thirteen Dwarves who, by your own admission, contracted you to perform a service for them?'

'It is not my own influence of which I speak,' Bilbo corrected him, 'I know too well that the words of a mere hobbit would not be enough to sway Thorin when he has made up his mind on a course of action.'

'Then what was your intent in coming alone to our camp?' Bard interjected impatiently. 'What could you hope to achieve by approaching us in this secretive manner?'

'To try and resolve this situation before it gets even more out of hand,' Bilbo answered. 'Really you know, things are impossible. Personally I am tired of the whole affair. I wish I was back in the West in my own home, where folk are more reasonable. But I have an interest in this matter – one fourteenth share, to be precise, according to a letter, which fortunately I believe I have kept.'

To Thranduil's slight amusement as the little hobbit searched his many pockets he kept up a running monologue to himself: 'bless me, I know I have it here, for I would not dare risk losing it. Oh bother, where did I put it? Why I have become as absentminded as old Mr Grubb who is always losing important legal documents! Ah, here it is!' The triumphant exclamation was followed by the appearance of a very crumpled and much folded piece of paper in the hobbit's small hand. Having opened up the letter, Bilbo held it up for his hosts to see.

His keen eyes having no difficulty reading the small script on the paper from where he sat, Thranduil had read most of the contents before Bilbo lowered his hand and refolded the letter.

" _Burglar Bilbo",_ the Elvenking thought, _a most peculiar title for someone with such an honest face._

'Yes, one fourteenth share,' Bilbo repeated. 'A share in the _profits_ , mind you. I am aware of that. Personally I am only too ready to consider all your claims carefully,' here the hobbit paused and shot a strange glance in Thranduil's direction, before continuing, 'and deduct what is right from the total before putting in my own claim. However you don't know Thorin Oakenshield as well as I do now. I assure you, he is quite ready to sit on a heap of gold and starve, as long as you sit here.'

'Well, let him!' Bard declared. 'Such a fool deserves to starve!'

'Quite so, quite so,' Bilbo said with a nod of his head. 'I see your point of view. At the same time winter is coming on fast. Before long you will be having snow and what not, and supplies will be difficult – even for elves I imagine. Also there will be other difficulties.' His voice becoming quite solemn, the hobbit looked towards Bard as he asked, 'you have not heard of Dáin and the dwarves of the Iron Hills?'

His brow creasing in a deep frown, Thranduil spoke up, saying, 'we have, a long time ago; but what has he got to do with us?'

Bilbo sighed. 'I thought as much,' he said. 'I see I have some information you have not got. Dáin, I may tell you, is now less than two days' march off, and has at least five hundred grim dwarves with him – a good many of them have had experience in the dreadful dwarf and goblin wars, of which you have no doubt heard. When they arrive there may be serious trouble.'

As Thranduil silently contemplated this new development, Bard stared at the hobbit and demanded grimly, 'why do you tell us this? Are you betraying your friends, or are you threatening us?'

'My dear Bard! Don't be so hasty!' Bilbo protested with a hint of a squeak in his voice. 'I never met such suspicious folk! I am merely trying to avoid trouble for all concerned. Now I will make you an offer.'

His curiosity truly captured now, Thranduil said, 'let us hear it,' and heard Bard speak the same words with him.

'You may see it,' Bilbo said quietly, and rising to his feet he reached into a deep pocket and withdrew a bundle of old rags. 'It is this!'

On the last word he held his hand aloft and pulled away the top wrappings to reveal a magnificent jewel of white radiance interspersed with the brilliant colours of the rainbow.

Amazement drew the Elvenking to his feet as he stared at the gem. For a fleeting moment he thought he beheld once more the wonder and beauty of the Silmaril that Lúthien and Beren recovered from Morgoth's Iron Crown. But the thought quickly passed. The jewel was beautiful, a globe of shimmering moonlight; however, it lacked the iridescent splendour of the Silmaril that had shone with the light of the Two Trees of Valinor.

'This is the Arkenstone of Thráin, the Heart of the Mountain,' Bilbo was saying as Thranduil returned his attention back to the present, 'and it is also the heart of Thorin. He values it above a river of gold. I give it to you. It will aid you in your bargaining.' And to Thranduil's utter astonishment the small hobbit, without hesitation, handed the beautiful jewel to Bard.

The bowman stared at the marvellous stone in his hands in a daze, clearly struggling to find his voice once more. Finally, with an effort, he managed to ask, 'but how is it yours to give?'

Thranduil's sharp gaze did not miss the way the hobbit shifted uncomfortably, and the nervous little twist of his small hands as Bilbo confessed: 'O well, it isn't exactly; but, well, I am willing to let it stand against all my claim, don't you know. I may be a burglar – or so they say: personally I never really felt like one – but I am an honest one, I hope, more or less. Anyway I am going back now, and the dwarves can do what they like to me. I hope you will find it useful.'

 _A most honourable and noble-hearted little fellow,_ Thranduil thought with increasing respect. _He took a huge risk in approaching us, and has sacrificed much to help those who are neither kith nor kin to him; and all without a thought for himself._ And looking upon his small guest with a new wonder, he said, 'Bilbo Baggins, you are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many that have looked more comely in it. But I wonder if Thorin Oakenshield will see it so.' Recalling his various dealings with the dwarves of Erebor over the long years, Thranduil felt sure that the hobbit's effort to bring about a peaceful conclusion to the present situation would not receive a friendly response from Thorin and his companions should they ever discover it. 'I have more knowledge of dwarves in general than you have perhaps,' he said gently, 'I advise you to remain with us, and here you shall be honoured and thrice welcome.'

The gracious invitation succeeded in finally bringing a smile to Bilbo's face, and giving a low bow he said quite warmly, 'thank you very much I am sure, O King. But I don't think I ought to leave my friends like this, after all we have gone through together. And I promised to wake old Bombur at midnight, too! Really I must be going, and quickly.'

'You have a loyal and courageous spirit,' Thranduil told him, 'but I urge you to carefully consider the impulsive and hot-tempers of the dwarves. You may hold true to an oath of friendship, however, I have found their race can disregard such things when it suits them. They may be honourable at times, but greed and lust for gold can blind them to all but what they desire.'

'Only consider their behaviour thus far,' Bard pointed out. 'Our claim is just, and yet they refuse to give recompense to those who aided them in their own need. They also know there is mixed with the treasure in the Mountain that which belongs to the descendants of the people of Dale, but Thorin calls it the treasure of his people alone. Think what he may do to one who he believes stole part of that treasure from him!'

Though it was clear their words had shaken him Thranduil and Bard could only listen with deep admiration as the hobbit declared, 'I am a Baggins, and we do not break our promises. I thank you both for your kind concern, but I feel it is my duty to return to my companions now.'

Observing the determined tilt of Bilbo's chin the Elvenking did not make any further attempt to persuade him to remain.

'Very well, Bilbo of Bag-End,' he said, 'we shall not detain you any longer. An escort shall see you safely across the river, for we would not want you to take another fall into the cold waters! May your good and noble heart ever be blessed. Fare thee well.'

And placing his right arm across his chest Thranduil bowed deeply as Bilbo stepped away from the fire and departed.

'A most worthy little fellow,' Bard commented as he watched the short figure disappear into the shadows flanked by two elf-guards.

'Let us hope Thorin continues to think so,' Thranduil said quietly.

'This jewel shall surely make the dwarves more willing to negotiate.' Turning the shiny gem over in his hands, Bard observed, 'it is doubtless worth a king's ransom.'

'You may be assured its value to the dwarves will be immense.' Retaking his seat, Thranduil stared pensively into the dancing flames of the fire. 'That jewel was found by Thorin's forefather, King Thráin, when first he came to the Mountain. To the dwarves it is prized above all other treasures, and the admirable hobbit took a great risk in handing it over – a fact he knew only too well. I would also caution you to not reveal how it came to be in your possession when next you approach Thorin, for he will not see the altruistic motive that drove Bilbo to deliver it to you.'

'I shall certainly be guarded in my speech,' Bard assured him, before his eyes returned to admiring the Arkenstone.

Content to be left to his own thoughts Thranduil did not speak again, and a long silence descended upon the area outside the Elvenking's tent – that was until a gruff voice suddenly hailed him.

A look of pleasant surprise appearing in his eyes the king rose to his feet and gazed at the shadowy form of the speaker as they approached.

'Good evening, Mithrandir,' he said in his own elf-tongue. 'Dare I enquire how you managed to slip by my guards on this occasion and come so far within the camp without your presence being heralded with a burst of merry greetings?'

'A wizard does not reveal all his secrets, O King,' came the newcomer's reply as he stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire.

To Bard's astonishment he found himself looking upon a very old man walking with the aid of a staff. A dark cloak and hood concealed much of his person, but his long white beard hung down to below his waist, and underneath long bushy eyebrows his eyes twinkled with a fair light.

'I perceive you have had a visitor who came bearing gifts.'

At the stranger's words Bard spoke up, saying, 'you will pardon my caution in not revealing any details to you, father, and I would ask of what concern are these events to you? I do not recognise you as being one of my people from Esgaroth.'

Stepping forward, Thranduil swiftly performed the introduction.

'Lord Bard, you see before you one who goes by the name of Gandalf in the common tongue, and who makes it his business to know much of what happens in all the lands of Middle-earth. He is a friend of myself and my people. You may speak with him openly without fear of betrayal.'

His stern features relaxing slightly Bard looked upon the friend of his ally and declared, 'I bid thee welcome to these lands, Master Gandalf, but I should mention that you may find the accommodations in this camp not at all suitable to one of your advanced years.'

Shooting a mild glare at Thranduil who had not been able to completely suppress the merry laugh that rose to his lips at Bard's remark, Gandalf announced, 'I am sure my old bones shall endure them quite well, and let us not stand on ceremony. "Gandalf" is sufficient when addressing me. Now let us return to the matter of the jewel you hold in your hands. My little friend, Bilbo Baggins, is a most intrepid fellow and in bringing you the Arkenstone he has gifted you with a most valuable negotiation piece, which will hopefully see this confrontation end in a timely fashion.'

A twinge of suspicion flickered in Thranduil's eyes as he stared hard at the wizard.

'There is something you are not telling us, Mithrandir,' he said. 'You also claim friendship with one of Thorin's companions, which makes me wonder the extent of your involvement in these events, and with these dwarves who have brought nothing but trouble to my people.'

'Thorin and his companions are well known to me,' Gandalf said. 'For some of their journey here we were in company together. As for any other information I may possess, you must allow me to keep my own counsel a while longer, Thranduil. It is my hope this current situation may be brought to a peaceful conclusion, and a truce made between the three races involved, ere I speak of anything that could disrupt the proceedings.'

'If Thorin considers this to be the greatest treasure of his people then our negotiations should be concluded fairly swiftly,' Bard observed, holding up the white gem stone. 'I shall send a runner across the river in the morning and request if Thorin will listen to another embassy. If he agrees I will go myself.'

'With your good leave I shall accompany you,' Gandalf said.

'Will the dwarves not find it odd that you have sided with us against them?' Bard enquired.

'My dear Bard, it is not a matter of sides,' Gandalf corrected him. 'I go merely to observe, and shall be cloaked in a guise unknown to them.'

Accepting this explanation, the bowman then turned to Thranduil.

'Will you accompany me also, O King?' he asked. 'When terms are negotiated and agreed upon I would be comforted to know I had a powerful ally as a witness, should the dwarves later attempt to dishonour their side of the agreement.'

Thranduil considered the request for a moment before agreeing.

'For once he has discovered the Arkenstone of Thráin is in your possession, my presence at his door will scarce be of slight importance to Thorin.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Thanks for reading. Up next: The Final Chapter. Tensions mount and Thranduil plays host to our amiable little hobbit as the threat of war looms over the land.

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **Thranduil's motives for going to Erebor & giving aid to the people of Lake-town**_

"But help came swiftly; for Bard at once had speedy messengers sent up the river to the Forest to ask the aid of the King of the Elves of the Wood, and these messengers had found a host already on the move, although it was then only the third day after the fall of Smaug. The Elvenking had received news from his own messengers and from the birds that loved his folk, and already knew much of what had happened…Even before the Elvenking rode forth the news had passed west right to the pinewoods of the Misty Mountains; Beorn had heard it in his wooden house, and the goblins were at council in their caves. 'That will be the last we shall hear of Thorin Oakenshield, I fear,' said the king. 'He would have done better to have remained my guest. It is an ill wind, all the same,' he added, 'that blows no one any good.' For he too had not forgotten the legend of the wealth of Thrór. So it was that Bard's messengers found him now marching with many spearmen and bowmen…But the king, when he received the prayers of Bard, had pity, for he was the lord of a good and kindly people; so turning his march, which had at first been direct towards the Mountain, he hastened now down the river to the Long Lake…great store of goods he sent ahead by water…only five days after the death of the dragon they came upon the shores and looked on the ruins of the town." _The Hobbit, Chapter 14 – Fire & Water_

The above certainly appears to imply that Thranduil realised that there was a danger in having Smaug no longer in control of Erebor.

 _ **Legolas riding north**_

As no orcs actually attacked Lake-town in the book I decided to explain Legolas' actions by having him suspect something ominous was stirring in the north. But I also only had him going as far north as the top edge of the forest, and a little beyond, as Mount Gundabad is about 360 miles away from the Long Lake (and that's measuring the path around Mirkwood as the bird's would fly, so it doesn't factor in any rough terrain, marshlands, mountains, etc). Even riding a horse Legolas could not have made it to Gundabad from Lake-town and then to Erebor (a total of about 685 miles) in the 7-8 days the movie seems to imply. According to different sources on the net a horse can cover up to 100 miles in 24 hours, but this is considered extreme (even for a well-conditioned endurance horse) and a rider would kill their horse if they kept that sort of pace for a consecutive number of days. Most sites seemed to agree that a fit endurance horse could do 40-60 miles per day for a 4 or 5 day timeframe. That would mean (doing 60 miles a day, and making no allowance for mountainous terrain or troubles encountered on the way) Legolas would cover the 360 miles to Gundabad in about 6-7 days, provided all the roads were good and he had an extremely fit horse. He would need to let his horse properly rest (maybe 2-3 days?) before heading back. And this is all assuming the roads are perfect (which they wouldn't be) and he wasn't beset by rogue bands of goblins.

As he needs to get back to Erebor to join in the battle (after finding out about the goblins) we'll just say he had only gone far enough so he could keep a watch on the mountains, unaware of the goblins as they "hastened night after night through the mountains". When they "came out in the broken lands which divided the Lonely Mountain from the hills behind" and the ravens were alerted to their presence, then he began to race back to Erebor. The quotes here come from _The Hobbit, Chapter 17 – The Clouds Burst_.

 _ **Timeframe from Smaug's death to the battle**_

In the book (Chapter 14) Thranduil "passed the rock-gates at the end of the lake and came into the desolate lands" eleven days from the ruin of Esgaroth. It was on the thirteenth day that Bard first spoke with Thorin.

After three nights had passed since Smaug was slain Thorin sent the birds to Dáin. It's approximately 150 miles from the Iron Hills to Erebor (according to Tolkien's map in LOTR). Recent studies have found ravens can cover up to 100 miles in a day. So I allowed one and a half days for the birds to reach Dáin.

When Dáin set out could be anyone's guess (how long would it take him to mobilise and arm the 500 dwarves he brought with him? 4-5 days?). As for his march, Roman legions (a legion had about 5,500 men) were expected to cover 20 miles on a good day (carrying full gear and wearing armour). Given dwarves are supposed to be hardy, but slower than men and elves, we could estimate that an army of them could cover the 150 miles in perhaps 8-9 days.

The day Thorin finds out Dáin is within two days' march of Dale is the same when Bilbo sneaks out to take the Arkenstone to Bard. The next day the offer was made to Thorin by Bard of the Arkenstone in return for a share of the treasure. They would return the next day for his answer (which is when Dáin arrived in the morning, having marched through the night).

Overall I'd say it took 19-20 days from the night Smaug fell for the battle to commence.

 _ **At Erebor**_

The details of the events that took place after the arrival of the elves and men at Erebor, and the conversations between Thorin & Bard and Bilbo, Thranduil & Bard can all be found in Chapter 15 and 16 of _The Hobbit._

With Thranduil's comment about Gandalf announcing himself, when reading the scene where Bilbo speaks with Thranduil and Bard it seems to me that at this point Gandalf had hidden himself in the host and not made his presence known. The description given of him after Bilbo leaves Thranduil's tent is: "As they passed through the camp an old man, wrapped in a dark cloak, rose from a tent door where he was sitting and came towards him." (Chapter 16)

With the elves using handkerchiefs, although Tolkien elves don't catch colds the handkerchief was also historically used as a barrier against bad smells by medieval nobles who would hold a silk handkerchief drenched in perfume to their nose. I took a bit of licence and decided elves (who have very keen senses) would need something like this when they may find themselves confronted with a rather foul odour. :)

Bilbo in the narrative of Chapter 16 is said to be wearing "elvish armour" and later Thranduil says it is the "armour of elf-princes". Thorin, in Chapter 17, says to Bilbo: "You have mail upon you, which was made by my folk," so the mithril coat was made by the dwarves, but was crafted for an elf-prince. It may have been traded back to the dwarves by some of the elves in Eregion (founded in SA750) after the young elf-prince outgrew it, which could explain how it came to be inside Erebor.


	22. The Enemy Descends

**AUTHOR NOTE:** It's taken a while to get this story all posted, but here we are at the journey's end. I'd like to thank you all for your support and interest in the story – and for being so patient with me when my updates got delayed.

To guest reviewer **MaryBeth7** : Thank you so much for your awesome review of the last chapter. Reading it was such a joy, and I appreciate all the feedback you gave on my writing, especially my portrayal of Thranduil. I certainly hope to write a few more fanfics based in Middle-earth, but they may take a while in coming while I focus most of my time on finishing my original works.

This final chapter ends the very second before my first Hobbit story begins (The Revelation of Truth). So if you get to the end and want to know how it all turns out (lol) you can go check it out straightaway. And there's no need to wait for updates as it's completed. ;)

Several readers left multiple reviews since I posted the last chapter. Let me tell you: I loved every single one of them. It was wonderful to find out your favourite scenes, or which aspects of Thranduil you liked the most. It's been a privilege to share this story with you all, and I sincerely thank you for all the encouragement you've given me. It's a small way to show my appreciation, but as I have done with every chapter I've posted, I dedicate this last one to all those who reviewed Chapter 21: **thrndlwood, FramedCuriosity, Silver-crowned Valkyrie, MaryBeth7, mylcas, Glykal** and **AndurilofTolkien.** I will also add in all those who have reviewed any previous chapter, as your reviews also helped inspire me: **PegasusWingsVW, aficionada-de-libros, Guest, Beccissss, dreamgoneby** and **FritzyM4.**

I'm also choosing to post this chapter today (26 Feb) in honour of my parents' wedding anniversary. Without them I wouldn't be here, and neither would this story. :)

And now, I'll bring a halt to this lengthy note, and let you immerse yourself in the magical land that is Middle-earth. I wish you all happy reading! :)

* * *

 _ **Part 22 – The Enemy Descends**_

It was late the next morning when Bard's runner returned to the camp bearing the news that Thorin had agreed to another meeting – but on the condition that those who came would be few in number and weaponless.

'It is not an unreasonable request,' Thranduil replied when Bard asked for his thoughts on the last stipulation. 'And they would scarce attempt any violence towards us when a whole host stands ready to exact retribution should we come to any harm.'

On the subject of the size of the delegation to depart it was Gandalf who suggested twenty would be a sufficient number.

'There are thirteen dwarves within Erebor,' he said, 'you would not wish to greatly outnumber them and have Thorin believe you sought to intimidate him during the meeting with a show of strength.'

And so it was that when the sun was at its zenith a small company set forth towards the entrance of the Mountain. The banners of the Elvenking and the Lake were borne proudly at the head of the group, which was comprised of nearly an equal mix of Elves and Men. Gandalf and Bard were mounted on horses, whilst Thranduil rode upon Horthien, a great elk of Voronwë's bloodline.

There was little conversation as the company made their way towards the narrow path that led to the Gate, and Thranduil was content for the long periods of silence to remain unbroken. He had a feeling there would be more than enough words spoken at the end of their journey when they reached Thorin.

As he rode slightly apart from his companions (their horses having protested being nudged by Horthien's great antlers) the Elvenking's mind turned to the issue of Legolas' absence. Not a word had been received from his son since he had ridden North with Tauriel, and Thranduil hoped the winged messengers he had sent out would soon return with news from him.

'My King, here is where we must lay aside our weapons.'

The voice of his standard-bearer drew Thranduil's attention back to the present, and upon observing the narrow way to the Gate, he dismounted and placed not only his swords and concealed dagger on a large stone, but also his oaken staff.

'O King, the dwarves would surely not object to your keeping hold of your staff,' Bard said, as he too laid aside his weapons. Then, as Gandalf also put down his staff, he added, 'Thorin cannot be so unreasonable as to deprive an old man of his walking stick.'

'The condition is we are to be weaponless,' Thranduil said calmly. 'Should the occasion demand it both Mithrandir and I can wield these staffs with deadly force, so to approach the Gate whilst holding them would be a violation of the terms of this meeting.' And turning to his standard-bearer he ordered him to remain and keep watch over the pile of weapons. 'Guard them well, Tirithon, and let no hand touch them, save those that belong to their rightful owners.' Then both he and Bard stood aside to permit Gandalf to walk ahead of them. The wizard, whose identity was hidden beneath a dark hood and cloak, carried a strong casket of iron-bound wood, inside of which the Arkenstone lay concealed.

Approaching the wall of squared stones that lay across the entrance to the Mountain, the company moved slowly until they were within a short distance of it. Then they all halted, with the exception of Bard and Gandalf who continued on until they stood a few paces in front of the others.

'Hail Thorin!' cried Bard. 'Are you still of the same mind?'

Gazing up at the wall, Thranduil's sharp eyes saw Thorin peering out through one of its holes as the dwarf answered curtly, 'my mind does not change with the rising and setting of a few suns. Did you come to ask me idle questions? Still the elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with me.'

'Is there nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?'

'Nothing that you or your friends have to offer,' came the dwarf's arrogant reply.

'What of the Arkenstone of Thráin?'

With his eyes still focused on what he could see of Thorin through the hole in the wall, Thranduil knew the exact moment Gandalf opened the casket and showed the shining jewel to the dwarves, for Thorin's eyes widened in astonishment, and his mouth fell open in disbelief.

A long pause then fell with not a single voice to break the silence, and only the sharp ears of the elves could hear the harsh breathing of Thorin as his emotions overwhelmed him. Finally, his voice thick with wrath, Thorin said hotly, 'that stone was my father's, and is mine! Why should I purchase my own? But how came you by the heirloom of my house – if there is need to ask such a question of thieves?'

To Thranduil's eyes the bowman seemed to gather into himself all the pride inherent in one of the line of Girion, Lord of Dale, and declared with great dignity, 'we are not thieves. Your own we will give back in return for our own.'

'How came you by it?' Thorin shouted in a terrible rage.

'I gave it to them.'

The small, frightened voice sharply drew Thranduil's attention back to the wall where he could see the pale face of Bilbo Baggins as he peered over the edge.

'You! You!' Thorin's furious outburst was swiftly followed by him seizing the self-confessed thief and shaking him violently. 'You miserable hobbit! You undersized – burglar! By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!'

And in horrified alarm Thranduil saw he fully intended to carry out his threat. He went to move forward to protest, only to find his intervention was not necessary as Gandalf's voice boomed out: 'Stay! Your wish is granted!' And casting aside his cloak the wizard looked sternly up at Thorin, saying, 'here is Gandalf! And none too soon it seems. If you don't like my burglar, please don't damage him. Put him down, and listen first to what he has to say!'

'You all seem in league!' Thorin cried, but to Thranduil's relief he dropped the honest little hobbit onto the top of the wall. 'Never again will I have dealings with any wizard or his friends. What have you to say, you descendant of rats?'

In the face of such insult Thranduil could only admire the hobbit's quiet composure as he retained a civil tone as he said, 'Dear me! Dear me! I am sure this is all very uncomfortable. You may remember saying that I might choose my own fourteenth share? Perhaps I took it too literally – I have been told that dwarves are sometimes politer in word than in deed. The time was, all the same, when you seemed to think that I had been of some service. Descendant of rats, indeed!' A spark of indignation now appeared in the hobbit's voice, although his tone still was quite polite as he asked, 'is this all the service of you and your family that I was promised, Thorin? Take it that I have disposed of my share as I wished, and let it go at that!'

'I will, and I will let you go at that – and may we never meet again!' Thorin announced grimly. Then glaring over the wall at Bard he said resentfully, 'I am betrayed. It was rightly guessed that I could not forbear to redeem the Arkenstone, the treasure of my house. For it I will give one fourteenth share of the hoard in silver and gold, setting aside the gems; but that shall be accounted the promised share of this traitor, and with that reward he shall depart, and you can divide it as you will. He will get little enough, I doubt not. Take him, if you wish him to live; and no friendship of mine goes with him.' And turning his fiery eyes back towards Bilbo he commanded, 'get down now to your friends, or I will throw you down.'

To Thranduil's surprise he heard the hobbit daringly ask, 'what about the gold and silver?'

'That shall follow after, as can be arranged,' Thorin retorted. 'Get down!'

'Until then we keep the stone,' Bard called out, showing that he placed little trust in the dwarf to honour his word if they relinquished the jewel to him now.

'You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain,' Gandalf said as he looked up at Thorin's dark expression. Closing the lid of the casket he added, 'but things may change yet.'

'They may indeed,' Thorin declared ominously, before casting a scathing glance at Bilbo who was busily scrambling over the wall and calling out his farewells to the other dwarves – even suggesting that they may meet again as friends!

'Get out of my sight, you faithless wretch! Be off!' Thorin shouted. 'You have mail upon you, which was made by my folk, and is too good for you. It cannot be pierced by arrows; but if you do not hasten, I will sting your miserable feet. So be swift!'

'Not so hasty!' Bard called out to Thorin, while the hobbit quickly said a last goodbye and scrambled down the rope that had been cast over the wall. 'We will give you until tomorrow. At noon we will return, and see if you have brought from the hoard the portion that is to be set against the stone. If that is done without deceit, then we will depart, and the elf-host will go back to the Forest. In the meanwhile farewell!'

To this Thorin made no further answer, and Thranduil watched as Bilbo nimbly made his way along the narrow ledge from the mountain-wall to where he and the others were gathered. Gandalf greeted the former companion of Thorin with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, while Bard nodded in a friendly fashion and uttered a few words of praise for his actions. When Bilbo reached Thranduil, the Elvenking smiled warmly, and having observed the shadow of sadness in the hobbit's eyes, said quite kindly, 'you possess a good and noble heart, Bilbo Baggins, and once Thorin's anger has been appeased by the return of the Arkenstone he may yet come to regret his harsh words to you. Now come, I am sure a good meal and a comfortable bed can be found for you within our camp, although it is a poor return for the great service you have performed for us.'

'Not at all, O King,' Bilbo said gratefully, 'I shall be glad of eating something other than _cram_. I was grateful for it, but after consuming it daily for many days I am heartily sick of the sight of it.'

As he gestured for the hobbit to walk ahead of him Thranduil said, 'we certainly will not be offering such poor fare to an honoured guest. I believe a form of stew will be the offering this evening.'

Pausing briefly, Bilbo glanced over his shoulder with a hopeful expression. 'A stew?' he repeated. 'A proper hot stew with vegetables and seasoning?'

A glint of humour appeared in Thranduil's eyes as he said, 'I have been told that will be our supper; however, I shall have to let you judge the merits of the dish for yourself.'

'O King, if the food is edible and hot my tongue will declare it the finest of meals this day,' Bilbo admitted frankly. 'I will own after this adventure I will never again complain should my fish be slightly dry, or my eggs overcooked.'

To the dwarves listening at the Gate the Elvenking's merry laugh must have sounded quite odd given what had just transpired.

'Good Master Hobbit, may you ever be spared having to consume such unappetising morsels,' Thranduil declared as they reached the location where Tirithon stood guard over the collection of weapons.

It did not take long for each member of the company to rearm themselves, and Thranduil had swiftly mounted his great elk with fluid grace before he turned to see Gandalf and Bard still standing beside their mounts. Bilbo, who looked extremely uncomfortable, stood a short distance away from them. A quick enquiry soon elicited the information from Gandalf that neither horse appeared willing to bear the hobbit on their back – it appeared they found his strange scent rather unsettling.

'Master Baggins, if the height of Horthien does not bother you, he and I are at your disposal,' Thranduil offered. 'He is quite well-mannered, and is not easily disturbed.'

Gazing up at the intimidating sight of the great elk as he towered above him, Bilbo's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously. 'You are very kind,' he began, casting a quick look towards the camp, 'but it is not too far a walk –'

'Stuff and nonsense, Bilbo!' Gandalf exclaimed. 'Do not talk such fustian, there's a good chap. Up with you now, and let us hear no more objections.'

And without much further ado the wizard quickly walked the hobbit over to where Thranduil sat upon his elk and handed him up.

Observing the tense set of Biblo's shoulders as he sat before him, Thranduil said reassuringly, 'be at ease Master Baggins, I often had my son up in front of me when he was of a similar height to yourself, and not once did he ever come to grief.'

'I do not doubt the care you will take, O King,' Bilbo answered nervously, 'it is just that hobbits are generally more accustomed to being closer to the ground.'

'Then it may aid you to close your eyes for the duration of the journey. I shall tell you when we have reached the camp.'

Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Bilbo gently gripped a handful of the elk's mane and shut his eyes – and in consequence was completely unaware of the astonishment that greeted their arrival at the camp when the Elves beheld him sitting in front of their king, who had only ever before granted such an honour to his wife and son. Thranduil, who could not avoid observing the surprise in his peoples' expressions, was not discomposed in the slightest by the looks he received, and called for his aides to attend upon him.

'Master Baggins, you may reopen your eyes. We are arrived at our destination,' he said.

With relief evident in his voice Bilbo politely offered his thanks before eagerly making a move to dismount.

'Why such haste, little one?' one of the aides cried with a laugh as he stepped forward to assist the hobbit in his endeavour. 'There are few who have had the privilege of being borne on Horthien's back, and here you are making with all speed to end the experience.'

'I believe our new guest is hungry,' Thranduil said diplomatically, alighting from his mount with greater ease than had Horthien's other rider. 'As the hour is not yet come for our evening meal let something be prepared for him, and pray have accommodation made ready so that he may rest.' And turning towards Bilbo he gave him a small smile, inclined his head in a respectful bow, and took his leave. 'Your company would be welcome at the gathering that will occur outside my tent once the sun has set,' he added before departing with Bilbo's sincere assurances that he would not miss it for all the mushrooms in the Shire. The last comment rather puzzled the Elvenking until Gandalf later explained the deep partiality that hobbits have when it comes to mushrooms.

'I can honestly say that I have never known another race to have a greater liking for anything,' Gandalf chuckled. 'You ought to be extremely honoured, my friend – to have been placed above their highly prized mushrooms is quite a feat indeed.'

While owning that the thought of being held in such regard by the hobbit was quite flattering, Thranduil could not help but be grateful that his son was not there to hear him being told he was more highly thought of than edible fungus; Legolas would certainly never have let that particular compliment pass forgotten into the mists of time!

O * O

The gathering at the Elvenking's tent that evening was a rather pleasant affair. The Elves and Men who attended, while conscious of the troubles the morrow could bring should Thorin decide not to honour his word, were determined to speak only of more joyous matters – the rebuilding of Dale being the chief topic, and what this could mean for the traffic of goods along the river and through Mirkwood.

For his part, Thranduil found most of his attention given to Gandalf and Bilbo. The hobbit had surprised the king by asking some questions in hesitant _Sindarin_ , and being quite willing to help improve his guest's knowledge of his beloved language, Thranduil patiently listened to each query, then answered them all in his own elf-tongue – though offering a translation if Bilbo began to look slightly bewildered.

The hour was growing late when the party finally dispersed, and Thranduil watched as all his guests left to seek their beds before seating himself beside the fire outside his tent. Looking up at the stars that twinkled across the black length of the sky, he frowned as a particular constellation made up of seven mighty stars shone with more than its usual brilliance.

 _Valacirca,_ he thought, _only in times fraught with great trial do you shine so brightly, giving hope to those of the Firstborn of Ilúvatar who gaze upon you in the midst of danger. For what calamity do you now seek to prepare us? Whatever it may be, may your radiance, which Elbereth Gilthoniel wrought out of the silver dews from the vats of Telperion and set in the heavens, ease our minds so that we may greet it with indefatigable strength and clear judgement._

And for the remainder of the night he stayed seated upon his chair outside his tent and stared up at the night sky; his mind finding rest and peace in the pure white light of the stars.

O * O

It was quite early the following morning when a sudden shift brought a strong wind in from the east, and the air was turned dark and gloomy. Thranduil greeted this change with deep misgiving; and when runners came hurriedly to report that a large host of dwarves had appeared round the eastern spur of the Mountain and was now hastening towards Dale, the news found him fully armed and in conference with his aides.

As trumpets called both Men and Elves to arms Thranduil exited his tent, and turning to the south he could see the vanguard of the dwarves as they marched up the valley. Each of the dwarves was clad in a hauberk of steel mail that hung to his knees, and around their legs they wore a hose of fine metal. They were armed with heavy mattocks, which they bore in their hands, and at their side there hung a short broad sword. Across their back was slung a roundshield. Their long beards had been plaited and thrust into their belts; and upon their heads each dwarf wore a cap of iron. Looking at the grim faces of the dwarves Thranduil knew that should a battle commence it would be a long and bloody one, with many losses sustained by all the races involved.

'They have arrived much sooner than expected,' Bard exclaimed as he hurriedly ran from his tent to join Thranduil. Gazing to where the dwarves were moving quickly towards the river as it flowed between them and the ruins of Dale, he added, 'shall they seek to do battle with us immediately do you think?'

'Let us see what they do when they reach the river,' Thranduil answered. 'They may send an envoy to offer a treaty, or they may attempt to continue onward up the eastern bank. Or they may make their own camp and wait a while before deciding on a course of action.'

'Should they decide to go up the eastern bank they will find it is not as unguarded as they may believe it to be,' Bard said, and Thranduil knew he referred to the archers and spearmen who had been positioned there on the morning after their arrival.

It was not long before Dáin and his host of dwarves reached the river. But, although the main force halted at its bank, a few of their number held on their way, crossing the body of water where it flowed at its shallowest, and marched towards the camp. Observing them closely, Thranduil watched as the dwarves laid down their weapons before they reached the first sentries and held up their hands in a sign of peace.

'It would appear they seek a peaceful meeting,' he informed Bard, and hearing a slight commotion to the right he turned and saw Bilbo dashing towards them. The hobbit was struggling to insert his arm into the empty sleeve of his coat, and panting out apologies for his tardy response to the trumpets call.

'I know not how I came to sleep through all the noise!' Bilbo exclaimed. 'Had Gandalf not come to check on me I would still be slumbering away! What is happening now?'

'Thorin's kinfolk have arrived,' Bard answered, and gestured to where the dwarves stood under the close watch of several men and elves.

The hobbit followed the direction Bard had indicated and Thranduil saw his eyes widen as he beheld the impressive visage of the armed group. 'Jumping toadstools!' he cried worriedly. 'They do look quite fierce. What will we do?'

'Well, I shall go and meet with them,' Bard declared. 'You are welcome to accompany me, Master Hobbit.'

Bilbo hesitated and glanced up at Thranduil. 'Do you go too, O King?'

Thranduil shook his head. 'Nay, for my presence shall not be necessary. Dáin's folk have laid aside their arms, thus announcing they have no violent intent in approaching us at this time. Should both Bard and myself confront them it may only serve to inflame the meeting.'

Bilbo was silent for a moment and then sighed. 'I will go,' he said. 'After all I share responsibility for these events, and I doubt if any of these dwarves will find me a cause for concern.'

Thranduil smiled. 'If they judge you only by your outer appearance then they will not.' Then he watched as Bard and Bilbo walked through the camp to go and meet with the dwarves.

The meeting appeared to go well – at first.

Thranduil observed the proceedings closely and heard the exchange of words quite clearly, for a hush had fallen over the camp that allowed all the Elves to hear what was said by both the dwarf-messengers and Bard. The dwarves politely stated they were journeying to join with their kinsmen in the Mountain now that the old kingdom was restored, and questioned the presence of the armed force in the valley. To this Bard announced his cause was just and informed them of it; adding also that he could not permit so heavily an armed force of dwarves to continue onward to the Mountain until the gold and silver promised by Thorin was delivered. At these words the dwarves lost some of their civility and accused the heir of Girion of seeking to fill his own treasure stores by force of arms. It was then that Bard revealed he had in his possession the Arkenstone, and of the terms agreed upon by Thorin for its return.

The revelation that the jewel of Thráin was held by Bard proved to be too much for the dwarves and they turned away furiously to march back to their kin, muttering all the while into their beards.

Bard swiftly returned with Bilbo and ordered his messengers to go at once to the Gate to see if the share of the treasure promised by Thorin was there.

'I am certain Thorin will make good on his word,' Bilbo said quietly as he sat with the Elvenking and Bard inside Thranduil's tent waiting for news. 'He is most anxious to have the Arkenstone restored to him, and he surely would not do anything that might result in you keeping it.'

'In their desire to obtain what they long to possess I have found dwarves are capable of being quite unreasonable and rash in their actions,' Thranduil observed. 'They also seem to forget with ease any agreement they have made if they deem it not to be advantageous to themselves.'

And sadly when the messengers returned it appeared Thorin had determined he could now rely on his kinfolk to aid him in regaining the Arkenstone without handing over a single piece of the treasure.

The messengers reported they had found no gold or payment at the Gate. Instead they had been greeted with arrows as they approached, with one shaft narrowly missing the ear of the eldest among them.

His anger at Thorin's actions drew Bard to his feet, but his furious words were forestalled as a great stir arose within the camp outside. Concern quickly replaced Bard's fury and he hastily exited the tent.

Following after the bowman with Bilbo at his side, Thranduil saw at once what had caused the furore among his people and the Men of the Lake: the dwarves of Dáin were now advancing along the eastern bank up towards the entrance.

'Fools!' Bard cried with a laugh, 'to come thus beneath the Mountain's arm! They do not understand war above ground, whatever they may know of battle in the mines.' And turning to Thranduil who now stood beside him, he said, 'there are many of our archers and spearmen now hidden in the rocks upon their right flank. Dwarf-mail may be good, but they will soon be hard put to it. Let us set on them now from both sides, before they are fully rested!'

His eyes shadowed with the memory of fierce battles fought against another race of dwarves, and which had cost the lives of so many of his dearest friends, Thranduil's voice was firm as he declared: 'Long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold. The dwarves cannot pass us, unless we will, or do anything that we cannot mark. Let us hope still for something that will bring reconciliation.' Turning to look back at the dwarves as they moved grimly ahead, he sighed as he added, 'our advantage in numbers will be enough, if in the end it must come to unhappy blows.'

'But surely it is best to attack them now before they gain too secure a position near the Mountain,' Bard protested. 'As you say, we have the advantage with our greater numbers, and we could swiftly defeat them.'

'Do not be so eager to engage these dwarves in battle,' Thranduil cautioned. 'You would still suffer the loss of many men, and I will not –'

The twang of numerous bows, followed by the harsh whistle of arrows flying through the air, had Thranduil abruptly falling silent; and turning sharply towards the direction of the dwarves he saw they had changed course, and were now following the path taken by their arrows across the river to engage the host of men and elves in battle.

'SPEARMEN TO THE FORE!'

At their king's shouted command the Elves leapt to obey and ran swiftly to form a strong defensive line against the marching dwarves.

Gazing down at the hobbit beside him, Thranduil bade him to make for the watch-post on Ravenhill. 'A battlefield is no place for you, Master Baggins,' he said urgently, and he called his great elk to him. 'Horthien shall bear you, for you must make haste.'

A shadowy darkness suddenly fell over the land, blocking out the golden light of the sun. Looking up, Thranduil saw a large black cloud moving with dreadful swiftness across the sky. The menacing rumble of thunder growled loudly as a wild wind blew fiercely through the valley. Lightning lit the peak of the Mountain, and then in the midst of all the noise a voice rang out with commanding authority.

'Halt!'

'That was Gandalf!' Bilbo gasped, and attempted to peer through the great crowd that had gathered about him.

Thranduil, whose tall height permitted him to easily see over the heads of both the men and elves, glanced to where the wizard now stood alone with his arms uplifted, between the two opposing forces.

'HALT!'

The thundering command came again, and was followed with a blazing flash of light from the wizard's staff.

'Dread has come upon you all! Alas, it has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dáin, whose father you slew in Moria. Behold, the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves, and Wargs are in their train!'

At these words from Gandalf a chill went through Thranduil's heart, and a sudden dread came upon him.

 _Legolas went to the north!_

The thought repeated itself inside his mind, and he was deaf to the cries of dismay from his own people and the deep-throated yells from the dwarves as they halted and gazed up at the sky.

It was only when he felt a small hand tug on his right bracer that he was drawn out of the horrifying images swirling inside his head, and he glanced down to look at the hobbit who was frowning at him in concern.

'O King, Gandalf has called for a council,' Bilbo said. 'The dwarves have laid aside their arms and Dáin is coming to join with us.'

A brief look informed Thranduil the hobbit spoke truly, and in a tightly controlled voice he said, 'I thank you for your timely words, Bilbo Baggins. Let us go at once.'

O * O

The council was conducted swiftly, and all prior disagreements were laid aside as Gandalf, Bard, Dáin and Thranduil carefully made their plans.

'The ravens knew not of the enemy's coming until they came out in the broken lands which divide the Mountain from the hills in the North,' Gandalf said. 'The goblins must have travelled through underground tunnels, and under the cover of darkness to conceal so great a force from our winged friends. We have not much time before they will come upon us.'

'How large is their company?' Dáin asked grimly.

'It is a vast host and comprises many from their various strongholds,' Gandalf informed him, and turning to Thranduil he said, 'even your numbers will not be sufficient to withstand them for long in open battle. They need to be contained within the valley.'

'Then a trap is our only option,' Thranduil observed. 'If we lure them into the valley between the arms of the Mountain, and have our archers target them with numerous volleys, we may decrease their numbers substantially. Fortunately, the arrows of my archers rarely miss their target.'

'But what if they come also from above?' Bard said worriedly. 'They may scale up the other side of the Mountain and descend upon us unawares.'

'That is a risk we shall have to take,' Gandalf declared. 'There is not time to make any other plan, or to summon more help. Now, your positions. Thranduil –'

'I and the main body of my host shall take the Southern spur,' the Elvenking said firmly. 'The path to the valley is more treacherous from there, which my people can cover with greater skill than either man or dwarf. After the enemy appears in the valley, and the archers have performed their task, we shall also take the first charge.'

Thranduil's last words were said so coldly, and with such deadly intent that Dáin did not even raise an objection.

'Then Bard, you and Dáin shall have your people position themselves on the Eastern spur,' Gandalf ordered. 'Now let us go.' But suddenly he paused and glanced at Bilbo who stood silently off to the side. 'My dear Bilbo, what am I to do with you? There is no time to send you away, and there is no place nearby where you would be safe. Do you wish to join Bard and the dwarves?'

As all attention shifted towards him the hobbit stepped forward and said bravely, 'I am prepared to help fight against the goblins, but with no offence to the good men of the Lake, or the stalwart dwarves from the Iron Hills, I would rather do so in defence of the Elvenking.' And turning to Thranduil he bowed, and drawing the small blade at his side, he announced, 'I have a sword, O King, which is yours to command. Please, accept my service, if you will.'

His heart touched by the gesture, Thranduil said, 'you will make a fine and noble addition to my ranks, Master Baggins. Come, I will take your offer, and you shall join me on Ravenhill.' Lightly touching the hobbit's curly hair in blessing, he tactfully did not point out that the blade being offered was in fact a knife. 'Mithrandir, shall you accompany us?'

The wizard nodded.

'Now that is sorted, let us seek our places,' Bard said, and calling out to his men he instructed them to make for the Eastern Spur of the Mountain. Dáin's deep voice followed shortly afterwards, urging his folk to quickly do the same.

As Horthien came up beside him and nudged his arm with his great nostrils, Thranduil swiftly gave the orders for the elf-host to retreat to the lower slopes and rocks at the feet of the Southern spur.

'All are to hold until I give the order to attack,' he told Eraisuithan as he leapt up on the elk's back. Relinquishing his staff to the aide, he said, 'have one of the standard-bearers take charge of this. I shall need both of my swords for this fight.' Then turning his eyes towards Bilbo who was slightly pale and seated in front of Gandalf on the wizard's fidgeting horse, he said, 'take heart, young hobbit, our friend Mithrandir will ensure you are safely positioned within our ranks. May Elbereth watch over you, and may any enemy you encounter feel the sting of your blade.'

Unaware of which of his words had put a slight glint of humour in the hobbit's eyes, Thranduil could only be grateful the greenish tinge to the small one's skin had faded. He gave Bilbo a brief warm smile before he turned away and urged his mount to make with all speed towards the feet of the Southern spur.

As Horthien galloped farther and farther across the dry and barren land Thranduil's gaze was drawn to the northwest where the border of his realm lay in the far distance, and his expression grew sombre.

 _Legolas, my son, where are you?_ he thought desperately. _Did you encounter the vile creatures that now descend upon us? Do you lie wounded, or perhaps even – No! You cannot be lost to me, my son. My spirit would surely know if such a fate befell you, wouldn't it? My heart aches for news of you, and gladly would I suffer any injury in this coming battle if it meant I would be assured your safe return to me. Please, Legolas, I lost your mother to these foul beasts – do not make me face the loss of you at their hands as well!_

The last anguished thought coincided with Thranduil's arrival in the lower slopes of the Southern spur, and he quickly turned his focus to organising his army, concealing his internal distress from his people as he gave his orders in clear, authoritative tones.

'When they approach target those who are foremost among them. If you should identify one who appears to be a leader among the screeching rabble, kill them first upon receiving the order to attack. On no account is a single arrow to be released until I give the word. One mistake, one mistimed assault, and we will lose our advantage. The fight for Erebor is about to begin, and we must not lose it.'

Restrained and betraying no hint of emotion, Thranduil's voice was eerily calm, but none of the Elves gathered on the slope at that moment could afterwards honestly say they did not shiver apprehensively at the sound of those quietly spoken words from their king. And when the swiftest of the wolf-riders swirled round the end of the Eastern spur and rushed into Dale, they knew with a dreadful certainty that a terrible battle was about to commence.

'O Elbereth Gilthoniel, pray watch over us, and lead us to victory against our enemies,' Thranduil said softly; and drawing his sword with cold resolution, he gazed at the rapidly increasing goblin horde in the valley with a steely light in his blue eyes and a grim determination in his heart.

* * *

 **End Note:** From this point onwards the events of the battle take place in my first story _The Revelation of Truth_. Thank you so much to everyone who has been kind enough to continue reading this story to its conclusion, and an extra special thank you to those who have left a review, or have added this story to their follow/favourite list. Your support is greatly appreciated and means the world to me. To any future readers, I hope you will let me know your thoughts. :)

 **REFERENCES**

 _ **At the Gate**_

All the details of the meeting at the Gate (i.e. Thranduil, Bard and Gandalf approaching unarmed; any recognisable dialogue, etc), along with the interactions with Dáin, and the events leadings up to the BOTFA are taken from Chapter 17 of _The Hobbit._

 _ **Hobbits and Mushrooms**_

"Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest likings of Big People." _LOTR, Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 5 – A Conspiracy Unmasked._ Given this passion I thought it would convey how much Bilbo wanted to spend time with the Elves if he said he was prepared to give up all the mushrooms in the Shire to do it. :)

 _ **Sindarin**_

"The Exiles, dwelling among the more numerous Grey-elves, had adapted the _Sindarin_ for daily use; and hence it was the tongue of all those Elves and Elf-lords that appear in this history." _LOTR, Appendix F (I) The Languages & People of the Third Age – Of the Elves_

 _ **Constellation of Valacirca**_

This is mentioned in _The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 3 – Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor_ : "And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she [Varda, or in _Sindarin_ Elbereth] set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom." It is mentioned once more in _Chapter 19 – Of Beren & Lúthien_: "And in answer he [Beren] sang a song of challenge that he had made in praise of the Seven Stars, the Sickle of the Valar that Varda hung above the North as a sign of the fall of Morgoth."

 _ **East Wind**_

In _The Hobbit, Chapter 17 – The Clouds Burst,_ the morning of the battle the narrative says: "the wind shifted west, and the air was dark and gloomy." This makes it an east wind (originates in the east and blows west), which in Tolkien's world was viewed as a thing of evil by many – possibly because so many evil things came from the east. In _LOTR, The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 1 – The Departure of Boromir,_ after Aragorn and Legolas have sung a lament for Boromir invoking the other three winds, Gimli says: "You left the East Wind to me, but I will say naught of it." Aragorn's reply is: "That is as it should be. In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings."

 _ **Bilbo & the Battle**_

Chapter 17 of _The Hobbit_ says that during the battle Biblo had "taken his stand on Ravenhill among the Elves – partly because there was more chance of escape from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish part of his mind) because if he was going to be in a last desperate stand, he preferred on the whole to defend the Elvenking." To understand the reference to the "Tookish part of his mind" I looked at what was said in Chapter 1 about Bilbo's ancestors, the Tooks, that "it was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbitlike about them…." The term 'fairy' would refer to an elf, as in Chapter 8, Tolkien refers to the Wood-Elves as being "descended from the ancient tribes that never went to Faerie in the West. There the Light-elves and the Deep-elves and the Sea-elves went and lived for ages…." And in his other writing, _The Adventures of Tom Bombadil,_ in the poem Errantry, Tolkien refers to the "elven-knights of Aerie and Faerie". So, even if the legend of a Took marrying an elf is absurd, there was obviously enough "elvish" behaviour exhibited by members of the Took-clan to make the other hobbits believe such a story, and makes Bilbo's preference to defend the Elvenking in the battle a bit more understandable.


End file.
